The Arthur Makepeace Code
by CD57
Summary: The body of a young Lieutenant is found. A new case for Gibbs and his team. Characters from SG-1 are merely players in this case, so if you don't know Stargate, you can still read this. COMPLETE.
1. Robert Makepeace needs a favor

_**Author's notes:** This is an NCIS case-file. Characters from Stargate SG-1 are involved in this story, but if you don't watch Stargate SG-1, you can still read this, as they are merely players in this case._

_If you are familiar with Stargate SG-1: this story is set in the third season of Stargate SG-1, and the second season of NCIS. If you want to point out that the years of those seasons don't match: I know. Just image they do! This is fan "fiction", you know..._

_Also, I'm trying to stick to the show (NCIS)'s timeline, so Gibbs' team does NOT know about Shannon and Kelly yet, but that doesn't mean I can't use the knowledge of their existence._

_Last, but not least: I'm not an native English speaker. I have written many stories before, so I guess I'll do all right. But little bits and pieces: their my fault! Just ignore them, or point them out to me and I'll make some changes._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't owe any of them. I have no room for them anyway! I'm just playing, and will return them when I'm done, more or less in one piece._

_Enjoy!_

_**April 2009:** this story is slowly going through some minor changes, as Lynette has kindly offered to do a quick beta on it! So the chapters will be replaced in the next coming weeks by new ones, with hopefully less grammar mistakes._

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**CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN, COLORADO SPRINGS**

Colonel Jonathan -Jack to his friends- O'Neill had no idea why he was going to see Colonel Robert Makepeace. Former Colonel Makepeace. Former Marine. Dishonorably discharged. Robert Makepeace, that piece of ----, who had been stealing technology from the Air Force and selling it to the enemy. Being a mole for the rogue group within the ranks of the National Intelligence Division (N.I.D.), he had been giving away Intel, too. A traitor, exposed in action by Colonel O'Neill himself.

O'Neill, team leader of SG-1 for almost three years now, and also second in command of the whole base stationed at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs, had been reluctant when General Hammond had informed them of the creation of a third SG-team, consisting of a couple of Marines. Marines, serving under the Air Force was something that just didn't sound right.

The rivalry amongst the two departments of the Military was there as it always had been, the Marines calling their colleagues "fly-boys" while the airmen, and being totally honest - Colonel O'Neill in particular, referred to their counterparts as "jar heads".

Having completed several missions together over the past three years, the mutual respect between the first and the third team had grown, however, and the nicknames had remained but were just friendly bantering between them.

Colonel Makepeace had successfully led both recon and rescue missions and had saved O'Neill and his team from dire situations. That was something written clearly in Jack O'Neill's memory and had been added to his IOU book.

Hence O'Neill's disappointment at discovering Makepeace's actions in his role as a mole and traitor. If O'Neill hadn't been the one catching him in the act, he might have never believed it to be true. He was actually just starting to like the "jar head".

Robert Makepeace had been arrested and would be transferred to a proper prison later that day. He was being held in one of the holding cells on level 24 within the mountain.

O'Neill had watched him being led away, a mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment clearly visible in his eyes.

Now, a few hours later, Makepeace had requested to see him, making O'Neill wonder why.

Giving a brisk nod to the security guard standing at the door, O'Neill entered the cell. Robert Makepeace was already there, sitting on a chair, his chained hands in front of him on the table. His feet were shackled as well. Not that O'Neill could see through the table, but he knew they would be.

"Robert," he greeted, his voice icy.

"Jack..." Makepeace didn't look up and his voice betrayed his mood. The man was nervous.

O'Neill didn't sit down, but remained standing, his shoulders straight, his head up. "You're wasting my time."

"Jack... please..."

"Please?" O'Neill growled. "Is that all you've got to say?"

"Jack..." Makepeace started again, this time tilting his head, just enough to glance at the Air Force colonel. "I'm not asking you to understand... I'm not asking for your forgiveness..."

"Good," O'Neill snapped, anger now becoming apparent in his features. "Cause I don't understand it at all, and I will never, ever be able to forgive." Stepping closer, the colonel bent forward, bringing his face close to Makepeace. The urge to grab the man by the shoulders and slam him into the brick wall was almost impossible to suppress. Instead, he placed his hands solidly on the table. "I trusted you!"

Makepeace, more than a little uncomfortable with an O'Neill in full blown anger in his personal space, sagged in his seat at the last three words that felt like whiplashes in his face. "I know," he whispered.

"Why, Robert?" O'Neill asked as he raised his upper body. He looked at the man in front of him, saw the flushed face and the shame in the man's eyes. He lifted one hand and ran it through his short hear, shaking his head in disbelief. "You had it all. You had your own team, you had the possibility to mean something to this world. You were good, damn good." Stepping back, O'Neill repeated the question that never be answered. "Why?"

Makepeace stared at the wall. He knew there was no reason to answer. O'Neill would never understand. Betraying that trust was the ultimate crime, probably worse than the actual treason itself. O'Neill would never forgive him, either. After working with him for almost three years, Robert had no illusions. It didn't matter anymore. He just needed O'Neill to do him one favor, and he hoped desperately that the Colonel would grant him that.

The tall colonel moved toward the door and brought his hand to the doorknob, preparing to leave and never look back. His anger had ebbed away, and it was being replaced with a feeling of emptiness and sadness. He opened the door and stepped outside. He didn't look back, didn't say a thing, but closed the door behind him. He did, however, hear Makepeace's final plea.

"Jack. Find Arti. Please?"

---oo---oo---


	2. Tony is late

**NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Special Agent Caitlin Todd, Kate to her friends and co-workers, was the first to arrive at the bullpen of NCIS headquarters in Washington DC that morning. It was only twenty minutes past seven, which meant Timothy McGee couldn't be there yet. It would take at least another quarter of an hour, as the youngest member of their team traveled by bus. However what surprised Kate was the empty desk of her colleague, Senior Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. Most of the time, Tony was already in before Kate. He preferred being there before their boss arrived.

Their boss, a forty-something-years old ex-Marine named Leroy Jethro Gibbs, tended to get a little upset if one of his agents didn't arrive on time. Both Kate and Tony had unpleasantly discovered that on occasion, both going through lots of effort not let that happen again.

Kate sat down at her desk and started with her morning routine, switching on her computer and scanning through the memos that were waiting on her desk for her to read.

She hadn't finished reading them yet as the elevator door opened. Gibbs entered, sipping from a large cup of black Starbucks coffee.

"Morning, Kate," he said without even looking at her.

"Morning, Gibbs," she answered.

Gibbs put the coffee on his desk and slid out of his jacket before sitting down at his desk. "DiNozzo not here?"

"No, I haven't seen him yet." Kate winced, wondering how much trouble Tony would be in when he arrived. Although she and Tony were always baiting each other, she really liked her colleague so she hoped he had a good excuse for being late.

Gibbs seemed in a particular good mood -for him, anyway- as he didn't comment. Instead, he'd also switched on his computer and was trying to browse through his mail without having to take out his glasses.

Kate glanced at him, but said nothing.

By the time Timothy McGee arrived, Gibbs had finished his coffee and got up. "McGee, I need that report you're working on."

"On it, boss," McGee hastened to reply. He quickly took off his coat and sat down.

"I'm going to get this to Ducky," Gibbs continued, wavering with a file in his hand. "Kate, if DiNozzo decides to join us, make sure he stays seated behind his desk or he won't have to worry about having one tomorrow."

Kate gave a brief nod, reconsidering her assessment of Gibbs' mood as she watched him leave. Tony was so in trouble.

"Do you know where Tony is?" Tim asked, glancing at Kate with concern in his eyes.

"Well, sure, McGee. He slept at my place and I left him home to clean my kitchen with a tooth brush," Kate responded with an exaggerated sigh.

McGee gave her a stare, then turned his attention back at the task at hand. He had a report to finish and he wasn't going to be the next one for Gibbs to get upset about.

Kate was just browsing through her mail when the elevator door slid open again, revealing a very wet Tony DiNozzo.

"Your date took off with your car last night so you had to walk, Tony?" Kate asked, looking him over. DiNozzo's hair was dripping with water, his coat was soaked, the bottom of his trousers were muddy and his shoes were beyond help.

"Very funny, Kate..." Tony said. He shook his head, sending droplets of water around.

"What happened?" McGee asked the obvious question.

"This better be good, Tony, 'cause Gibbs isn't happy about you being late," Kate warned him.

"Yeah, well, Kate. You know me. A lady in trouble and I have to get out there and help." DiNozzo took off his wet coat and looked around for a good spot for it to dry.

"Oh, let me guess. Blond hair, long legs, and all of that, and one of her high heels getting stuck?" she couldn't help teasing.

"Actually, it was one of her front wheels that got jammed," Tony responded. He'd briefly glanced at the empty desk of his boss, and was glad that was one confrontation less to deal with at that particular moment. Grabbing a box of tissues, he started swabbing his pants legs to get rid of the mud. "Awww.... This isn't going to work... And my shoes! Look at my shoes..."

"Should have thought of that before you had to play her knight on a white horse, Tony," Kate shrugged. "Did you even manage to help or did you just phone the garage?"

"Kate, Kate," Tony shook his head, pretending to be upset by her lack of faith. "Of course I was able to fix the problem. Thank you very much for your confidence. And, in case you wondered, the lady was very happy."

"Oh, I bet," Kate laughed. "What did she do, give you a reward in the back seat of her car? Did she give you her phone number?"

Shaking his head, Tony rolled his eyes at her, then showed her a bar of chocolate. "Nope. She gave me this."

Kate's eyes widened. "She gave you that??? What kind of woman does that?"

"An eighty-year-old one, Kate," Gibbs replied as he appeared out of nowhere.

Tony immediately ducked, fully expecting a slap on the back of his head.

Gibbs passed him without even lifting a finger and sat down with a grin. "What, DiNozzo? You think I'll smack you for helping out an elderly woman? What kind of man do you think I am?"

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE, IN WASHINGTON D.C.**

His mobile rang. He took it out of his pocket with one hand, snapped it open and brought it to his face in one fluid motion. "Yes?"

"You idiot!" The voice of his boss was harsh.

"What? What happened?" the man asked, not the least intimidated by the way he was being addressed.

"We found the package. It was there, just like the little weasel said."

"So? What's wrong?" He'd had no doubt about the package being there. The little weasel, as his boss was calling their victim, had told him so, and he knew the other man hadn't been lying. Nobody had lied to him before, not after the treatment he'd given him.

"It's sealed. Locked. With some kind of chemical layer. If we break it, the content will be destroyed. What is this, has he been reading too many Dan Brown's?"

The man frowned. That was unexpected. So no lie, but not the whole truth either. He'd have to work on that. Failure was unacceptable.

Apparently, his boss thought the same thing. The last words were snapped at him, leaving no room for interpretation. "We've searched his place. Nothing. So get your ass back there. He must have had the code with him somehow. Maybe he hid it. Maybe he f... ate it. Get over there before somebody else does and get me that code."

There was no point in answering. His boss had already broken off the connection. His mind racing, he snapped his own cell shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. He had to go back there and find what they needed.

He cursed. Next time, he'd better double check before assuming he got what he wanted.

---oo---oo---


	3. A body

**PRINCETON CORNER, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Jimmy Clark and his friend Abe Russell were in hot pursuit. Both on their skateboards, Jimmy had his right foot on the board, pushing off with his left, while Abe did it the other way around.

The boys, both 15 years old, were a good match.

First, Jimmy was leading, but then Abe was. They took stairs, uneven pavements and other obstacles with ease.

Abe approached a bench, gave his board a swift kick on the back and jumped. As if the board was glued to his foot, he rolled over the bench and expertly jumped off at the end, throwing a glance over his shoulder at his friend. Jimmy would never be able to match that, Abe knew. And not only because the backrest was on the wrong side of the bench for Jimmy.

Jimmy took a detour around the bench, smiling at Abe's stunt. His friend was so good at jumping, Jimmy didn't have the same flare as Abe but never got tired of looking at Abe's stunts. In fact, he loved to watch and just dream about ever being able to do things like that.

Increasing his steps, Jimmy finished his detour and followed Abe. Abe was good at jumping, but Jimmy had more speed. It didn't take him that long and then he was skating next to Abe. Glancing sideways, he saw Abe's smile and he grinned back.

Jimmy went faster and faster, now taking the lead again, with Abe maybe a yard or two behind him. Knowing they had to be home in time Jimmy decided to take a shortcut and took a sharp turn to his right as he disappeared into a small alley.

He knew the way well. It was an area with storage buildings and warehouses and such, and at the end of the alley, he could go either left or right, around the big, empty building that was there, and then a few more alleys straight ahead and a left turn and they'd be almost home.

Abe was behind him, although his friend had a little more trouble taking that sharp turn. Jimmy grinned at the sound of jumping and knew Abe couldn't resist the bins that were the perfect obstacles for him. Steering to the left side, Jimmy deliberately hit a garbage bin with the tip of his board, sending it rolling. It would make another jumping challenge for his friend.

Reaching the end of the alley, Jimmy had to decide. Go left or right.

He chose left.

His board ran into something, and next thing he knew he was on the ground, rolling over and over.

His sudden yelp of surprise luckily alerted Abe in time. The boy jumped off his board, quickly tapping its nose to send it flying and caught it before rushing over to his fallen friend. "Hey man? Jimmy? You okay?" he asked, worried.

"Yeah, I guess so," Jimmy said, still a bit dazed at the sudden stop. He flexed his legs, moved his arms and then looked over to the spot where he'd unexpectedly come to a halt. "What was that?"

Extending a hand, Abe pulled Jimmy back to his feet. Jimmy slapped his pants, sending billows of dust through the air. Then, they moved back to where Jimmy's board lay.

Abe grabbed Jimmy by the arm. Both boys stopped, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

The nose of Jimmy's board had slammed into a dead body.

---oo---oo---

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Gibbs put the receiver down, opened his drawer and took out his gun. "Grab your gear, we've got a dead Marine."

Tony, Kate and McGee all jumped up, holstering their weapons before grabbing their jackets.

"McGee. Bring Ducky," Gibbs ordered as he moved between the desks into the direction of the elevator to press the button. "DiNozzo! Keys?"

Tony had already picked up the car keys and threw them without questioning. Gibbs briefly glanced sideways to aim and caught them without trouble before stepping into the waiting elevator. "Today, people!" he urged his already running team members.

A while later DiNozzo was trying to stay seated in the passenger seat with one hand on the hand grip above the door while Kate had herself strapped securely on the back-seat. Gibbs, as per usual, was driving and he wasn't paying attention to the speed limits.

"So, what's the case?" Kate spoke up as she steadied herself with one hand.

"Two kids were skateboarding down in Princeton Corner. One of them entered an alley and ran straight into the body of a dead Marine."

"Wow," commented Tony.

"Yeah. The boys are of course shaken up by their discovery," Gibbs continued.

"Poor kids," Kate answered. "That's not something I would want to happen to my kids, if I ever have them."

"You have to get out on a date first, Kate," Tony smirked.

"I know, Tony," Kate answered, as she rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I know all about the birds and the bees."

"Now do you, Kate?" Tony asked teasingly. "Because I could swear..."

"Are you two done?" Gibbs snapped, throwing an angry glance sideways.

"Sorry, boss," Tony quickly responded. "So do we know who the Marine is?" As always, he immediately turned his attention back at the case after having been on the receiving end of one of Gibbs' dressing-downs.

"No." Gibbs expertly steered the car through the streets and alleys.

"How do we know it is a Marine?" Kate wanted to know. "Was he in his uniform, or in civvies?"

"That's what we will find out when we get there," Gibbs said curtly. He wasn't about to waste time speculation on something he would find out within the next fifteen minutes.

Both Kate and Tony kept quiet, watching the road as Gibbs maneuvered through the smaller passages of Princeton. They turned left again and saw a police car parked near the end; the blue lights on and the passenger door left wide open. Gibbs parked behind it and got out of the car. "Are you two coming?"

Tony shrugged at Kate and they both got out of the car.

---oo---oo---


	4. Searching the crime scene

_**Author's notes:** Thanx to Lynette and Kate for the beta job and to everybody for reviewing this so far! I'm glad you are enjoying this... On with the story, Let the trouble begin..._

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**PRINCETON CORNER, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Gibbs was already a few yards ahead of them. An officer was walking towards him. Gibbs waved his ID. "Gibbs, NCIS," he introduced himself. Lifting a hand, he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "Special Agents Todd and DiNozzo, right behind me."

The officer gave a curt nod. "Agent Marlow, Sir."

"Have you touched anything, Agent Marlow?" Gibbs asked. He looked around, scanning the area for anything amiss. He saw the body of their victim sprawled out on the ground, the skateboard still there where the kid must have hit the body.

"I checked his breathing, Sir. Had to know if our victim was still alive. Couldn't find a pulse, so left everything intact and called you guys."

Glancing again at the body, Gibbs noted the man was dressed only in his boxers. He then let his eyes drift to the other side of the street. Another officer was standing there, and two nervous looking boys were standing next to him. "Those the kids who found the body?"

"Yes. Jimmy Clark and Abe Russell. They're 15 years old, and were racing through the area. Jimmy came around that corner," Marlow indicated the general direction, "and came to an abrupt stop, as you can see by the position of his board. The kid fell, rolled over a few times. Abe helped him up, they went back to see what was in their way and found the body. Abe called 911 with his cell right away."

Kate and Tony also checked out the scene as they listened to the story. "How did you know the victim is from the Marine Corps?" Kate asked as she looked at the almost naked body on the ground.

"The tattoo," Agent Marlow explained.

"Semper Fi?" Tony asked.

Marlow nodded.

"Kate. Pictures and sketches," Gibbs ordered. "Tony, search the perimeter. A hundred yards."

"What am I looking for, boss?" Tony asked.

"Anything, Tony," Gibbs growled. "Anything telling us what happened to that Marine. Now what's keeping McGee and Ducky?"

"Boss, maybe you shouldn't have sent McGee with them. He usually takes the bus. So you know he always gets lost..." Tony started.

Gibbs raised a hand and hit him on the back of his head. "Did I ask for your advice, DiNozzo? Perimeter, now."

"On it, boss." Tony hastened to say and was happy to see the other NCIS truck arriving. It meant Gibbs' attention would be diverted to something else.

Kate was already taking photos with her camera. Tony started circling around the body, searching the ground for clues, making each circle wider as he continued.

Meanwhile, Gibbs had motioned McGee over. "Help DiNozzo search the area, McGee," Gibbs instructed. "I want to know what happened here. I need answers, preferably today."

The younger man gave a sharp nod and immediately rushed over to Tony's side to offer his assistance.

Gibbs followed the youngest member of his team with a satisfied smile on his face. Despite the bantering between them, the team got along really well and McGee, as probie the main target of the other two agents, was keeping his ground pretty well. Gibbs respected him for that, although he would never let on.

"What have we got, Jethro?" the smooth voice of Dr. Mallard drew his attention back and Gibbs turned around, looking intently at the older man. Dr. Mallard, called Ducky by his friends and colleagues, was the medical examiner of NCIS.

"A dead Marine," Gibbs told him. "By the looks of it..." he glanced at the body, "I'd say he was tortured, Duck. But I'd like to get the details from you. Kate is nearly finished with her pictures, then he's all yours."

Dr. Mallard looked at the body on the ground. "Poor man," he said, shaking his head in dismay. He gently placed his hand on Gibbs' arm. "Indeed, he doesn't seem to have been treated well. Be assured, Jethro, we will take really good care of him now."

"I know, Ducky," Gibbs gave him a faint smile. "I'm going to talk to the kids who found him." He watched how the medical examiner motioned his assistant, Jimmy Palmer over to the scene, then turned to walk away.

Approaching the boys, Gibbs gave a brief nod toward the officer standing next to them. "Hi," he greeted the kids, smiling at them for reassurance. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS."

Both boys looked up at him.

"That's the Naval Criminal Investigation Service," Gibbs explained. "The dead man over there," he glanced over his shoulder, then faced the kids again, "is a Marine."

The tallest boy nodded. "So we've been told."

"So what's your name?" Gibbs asked.

"Abe," the boy answered. "Abe Russell. And this is Jimmy Clark."

"All right. Abe, wanna tell me what happened?"

Abe looked up at the special agent. He liked the older man, he was friendlier than the officer who'd been standing next to them the whole time. "We were racing through the area," he started. "I like to jump with my board, and Jimmy likes to go fast."

"Cool," Gibbs commented, smiling. "I wish they had skateboards when I was a kid."

Jimmy grinned. "You would have been good at it," he spoke up for the first time.

"You think?" Gibbs winked at the boy. "So, you were taking the lead?"

Jimmy nodded. "We come here often, and know the way pretty well. I knew we were running late, so I took a shortcut and we came through that alley..." the boy pointed with his finger in the direction of the alley. "I came around the corner and slammed into something... him..." A shiver ran up the boy's spine.

"It's okay," Gibbs said gently. "This is not your fault. So you fell, didn't you?"

Jimmy nodded. "Rolled over a few times, too. I was going pretty fast and hadn't counted on this abrupt stop." Nervously he glanced in the direction of the dead body.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Gibbs wanted to know, looking the boy over for injuries. Other than patches of mud covering the boy's jeans, the special agent couldn't detect anything amiss.

"Nah," Jimmy shrugged. "A few scratches... nothing that won't go away in a few days."

"And you," Gibbs turned his attention to the other boy. "You were close behind him?"

"Not that close," Abe explained. "When Jimmy is on the run, he's really going fast, man. I'm not that good..."

Gibbs glanced back at Jimmy, who smiled at the implicit compliment.

"I think I heard him falling before I actually turned the corner and jumped off my board. I helped Jimmy back up and then we looked at the obstacle that was in his way..."

Gibbs nodded in understanding. "And then, what did you do?'

"We got scared, man! I mean, that guy didn't really look too good, right?" Abe shivered, then looked at his friend.

"I wanted to run away," Jimmy continued. "Go home and forget about the whole thing..."

"But you didn't," Gibbs helped him.

"Hah." Jimmy shrugged and pointed back at Abe. "He said we had to call somebody and get help... I mean, the man looked dead, but what if he wasn't? So we called 911".

"Did you touch anything?" Gibbs wanted to know.

Abe shook his head. "No, sir. We even left the board where it was. We were afraid to come any closer..."

"That's good. You did real good," Gibbs complimented the boys. He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Abe. "Here's my card. There's the number of NCIS, you can reach me there if you remember anything else. My cell phone number is also on there. Feel free to call, for whatever reason, all right?"

Abe took the card and nodded. "Sure, Agent Gibbs."

"Now, why don't you go with this officer over here, and he will drive you home."

"Agent Gibbs?" Jimmy asked, looking up at the older man. "When am I going to get my skateboard back?"

"Soon, Jimmy. Soon," Gibbs promised. "I'll have somebody bring it back to you as soon as we're done. Now, go on. You kids need to get home."

Gibbs watched them being lead away by the cop before turning his attention back at the scene. Looking over at the spot where the dead marine was, he saw Ducky and Jimmy Palmer already busy wrapping the body in a body bag.

Kate, McGee and his senior field agent were all investigating the area, like he'd instructed. He moved to head over to where Tony DiNozzo was, fully intending to demand an update.

Abruptly, Gibbs stopped.

There was a slight noise coming from the warehouse next to him.

Glancing sideways at the entrance of the warehouse, Gibbs concentrated on his hearing. There it was again. A scraping noise. His gut told him somebody was inside, not far behind the door. His gut also told him that whoever it was, he or she was moving, trying to silently get away.

DiNozzo turned and looked at him. The younger man must have noted that something was amiss. Gibbs raised a hand, one finger warningly in the air, then moved it to place it over his lips.

DiNozzo understood and silently drew out his gun.

Gibbs did the same, while he signaled with his other hand, that way instructing his field agent to move closer to the door. Without looking, he knew Kate was approaching as well, which also meant McGee wouldn't be far behind.

Signaling again, Gibbs let Tony know how they'd deal with the situation. Gibbs would open the door to the warehouse, then they'd wait a few seconds before stepping aside, Tony covering the left side while Gibbs would do the same on the right side.

One hand steadily on the door knob, Gibbs brought it down, then swung the door open, while he remained in cover beside the door.

Nothing happened. Giving an affirmative nod, Gibbs quickly stepped inside, his Sig Sauer covering the area on the right side of the warehouse. DiNozzo had followed suit, and was covering the other side as instructed.

Blinking as his eyes tried to adjust to the dark interior of the warehouse, Gibbs scanned the area looking for movement, looking for signs of trouble, looking for anything telling him where the person making the noise earlier was hiding.

He saw the movement from the corner of his eye, then registered the flash of a gun firing. His arm already swung around to aim, his finger pulled the trigger twice as a solid thud punched against his shoulder.

His ears were ringing, the sound of his gun clattering to the floor overwhelming him as he found himself suddenly on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the warehouse. His right arm was numb, his vision was blurring and he heard Tony calling out his name. Wanting to tell the younger man he was fine, Gibbs shifted and regretted it immediately, as a fierce, burning pain set in, centering on his shoulder but quickly spreading outwards.

Breathing was getting difficult and black spots were clouding his vision. Hanging onto a thin thread of consciousness, the NCIS team leader vaguely registered Tony's frantic call for help. He briefly wondered if he'd gotten the suspect then berated himself that Tony was fully capable of handling the situation. Trusting his team to have his six, Gibbs gave in to the blackness that was surrounding him, let his head roll back and passed out.

---oo---oo---


	5. Will Gibbs be ok?

**INSIDE A WAREHOUSE, PRINCETON CORNER**

After having made sure the suspect remained unmoving and nobody else came shooting at them, Tony put his gun away and moved. He dropped to one knee, his hands already moving, pressing the handkerchief he'd taken from his pocket to Gibbs' bleeding right shoulder.

'Not again,' he thought, remembering another time, in autopsy, where he'd also sat beside his boss after another shooting mishap. It was the other shoulder then, also a through-and-through, but now was a hell of a lot messier than that time.

The cloth turned red under his palms as the younger man kept pressure on the wound. "McGee, where's the EMT's?" he shouted, hoping to speed things up. He felt Gibbs' blood leaking through his fingers and knew there was no time to waste.

Gibbs was out cold. Tony tried to recall if the Marine had hit his head when he'd gone down. The younger agent didn't remember however, everything had happened too fast and he'd been standing with his back towards his boss as he'd been scanning the other side of the warehouse at the moment of the shooting.

DiNozzo barely registered Kate rushing past him as she headed over to where the body of the suspect Gibbs had taken out with two shots was sprawled on the concrete. He did however see Dr. Mallard coming through the door, entering the warehouse. "Ducky, I need some help here!"

Knowing the coroner would be there to assist him, Tony turned his attention back to the supine man on the floor. Gibbs' eyes started trembling, he was coming around. "Boss... hey, boss," DiNozzo started. "Don't move, boss."

A low moan escaped the other man's lips as he struggled to get up.

Tony rolled his eyes. 'Deja-vu, all over again' he thought, moving one hand to steady Gibbs. "Why can't you wake up and keep still?" he muttered despite knowing better.

Ducky knelt next to the two men and quickly applied pressure with another cloth on the heavily bleeding exit wound on Gibbs' back. "Oh, my, Jethro. Bullet-proof vests were developed for a reason... "

Gibbs, none too steady and only keeping upright by leaning on Tony, groaned.

Concerned, Tony took in the pale features of the man all but hanging in his arms. "Easy, boss. Easy." With his free hand he supported his boss, keeping him from falling.

"Yes, this hurts. I know, Jethro. That's what you get for being foolish," Ducky rambled, quickly exchanging a worried glance with Tony. The medical examiner didn't miss the short intakes of Gibbs' breath and also noted the dots of sweat matting the injured man's face. "You really should be more careful in the future. I do not wish to weigh your liver just yet."

"Are we secure?" Gibbs managed to ask, albeit his voice lacked its usual strength. He tried to look around, but his vision was blurry, Tony was in his line of sight and he had no strength to move. The interior of the warehouse was looping already, making him dizzy and he had to grind his teeth at the sharp stabs of pain shooting through his shoulder, all the way up to his neck.

"Yeah. You got him, and Kate is handling it. Relax," Tony reassured him.

"Must you sit up, Jethro?" Ducky asked, concerned about the amount of blood the special agent already had lost. "You'd be more comfortable lying down. Now, what is keeping the EMT's..."

"McGee!" DiNozzo shouted, needing to know what was taking the paramedics so long. He heard the younger man call back that it wouldn't be long now.

Gibbs shuddered, than gasped.

"Ducky..." Tony called out in alarm. He felt Gibbs' body go slack. "He's going to pass out again!"

Ducky quickly supported Gibbs' head and together they carefully stretched the injured man out on the floor. "Jethro! Jethro! Look at me, Jethro..." Ducky raised his voice, trying to hold the other man's attention. "Look at me!"

His pleas were unanswered. Gibbs' eyes rolled up in his head.

"Does he ever listen?" Tony wondered.

"Now we both know the answer to that one, Anthony. Keep pressure on that wound, he is losing too much blood." Ducky, keeping one hand under Gibbs' shoulder himself to stem the blood, pressed the fingers of his free hand on the unconscious man's neck to check his pulse. He looked up and saw Kate coming towards them. "Caitlin, dear. Find me a blanket. Quickly, he is going into shock."

"Ducky?" Tony asked, frightened. Gibbs hadn't been that bad off in autopsy, after Ari had shot him. In fact, he'd been back on his feet within half an hour back then.

There was Kate, concern written all over her face as she draped a blanket over the still body. "How is he?"

"He's got a hole in his shoulder," Ducky stated the obvious. "And he is going to bleed out if help doesn't arrive soon." Noticing the EMT's rushing towards them, McGee shortly behind them, he continued with a relieved sigh, "There they are. It's about time."

"What have we got?" the first medic arriving asked as he knelt beside Tony. McGee stood behind him, his eyes wide as he looked down at the scene in front of him.

"A bullet tore through his shoulder, he's lost too much blood and he's going into shock," Ducky summarized efficiently.

Within minutes, the medics had checked the patient's breathing and pulse, had an IV running and an oxygen mask placed over Gibbs' face. Tony's hand was replaced by pressure bandages and next, after slightly rolling the unconscious man over, another set of bandages was applied to the exit wound.

"We'll take it from here," one of the medics said softly. They expertly lifted their patient on a gurney and fastened the straps to keep him secure. "Let's move it, people!" Without wasting more time, they headed off, rushing towards the waiting ambulance.

Tony sat back, staring at the dark red patches of blood on his hands.

Kate placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He looked up at her, giving her a weary smile. "Yeah."

"Ducky?" Kate asked, as she held out her hand to help the coroner get back to his feet.

"I'm quite all right, thank you, Caitlin." Ducky dropped the cloth stained with blood on the floor and sighed. "I hope Jethro will be fine as well. He is in good hands now. Please, glue a vest on him the next time he goes playing cowboy. I'm getting too old for this."

---oo---oo---


	6. Waking up

**BETHESDA NAVAL HOSPITAL, BETHESDA**

Dr. Mallard quietly entered the hospital room and glanced at the bed and the man occupying it.

Gibbs was lying completely still, something Ducky always found amazing whenever the special agent was waiting for an autopsy and just went to sleep on one of the cold, hard autopsy tables. The doctor guessed it was something Marines learned, laying down and getting some sleep anywhere, any time whenever the possibility occurred.

Of course, now it was the drugs keeping the agent this still. 'Dear Lord, let's keep it that way for a while', Ducky thought, knowing beforehand it would be next to impossible to keep Gibbs in bed when he woke.

Having spoken to the young doctor who'd performed surgery on Gibbs' shoulder, Mallard knew every detail of the injury. The doctor had told him there would most likely be no long-lasting damage to Gibbs' shoulder -Jethro had been lucky, once again- and would regain full use of his right arm. That was, if he'd be patient enough to give it time to heal, and that's what concerned the medical examiner. Patience just wasn't Jethro's virtue.

Lost in thought, Dr. Mallard hadn't spotted Abby Sciuto sitting in a chair until he approached the bed. "Oh hi, my dear Abigail, have you been sitting there for long?"

The young Gothic girl, NCIS's forensics specialist, looked up, giving the older man a soft smile. She was, totally out of character, sitting unusual still, one hand resting on Gibbs' strapped right arm. "Ducky," she whispered. "What's he done this time? You know, he really should stop doing that. I'm all worried, and I hate that feeling. I hate being worried. Should I be worried? Is he going to be okay?"

Ducky raised his hand, as if to stop her non-stop rambling. "Yes, Abby. Jethro is going to be all right. You can stop worrying about that. However," he winked at her. "You might want to start wondering how we are going to keep him in bed long enough for him to do some healing."

Abby grinned. "We need to work together on that," she started, her hands already moving to gesture with every word she spoke. "First of all, let's close that locker, so he can't reach his clothes. As much as he wants to get out of here, even Gibbs wouldn't start wandering around with his butt hanging out of his uniform."

"Good heavens," Ducky smiled. "You have a point there, Abigail."

"Next we don't bring him coffee, unless he behaves," Abby continued, her eyes glistering with excitement. "Then, of course, we could handcuff him to the bed. That would be hinky..."

She was interrupted by some movement from the bed. Gibbs' eyes were trembling and he was showing all signs of waking up.

"Please, no," Ducky uttered. "He isn't supposed to wake up just yet.... There are too many drugs in his system."

"This IS Gibbs we're talking about," Abby pointed out, shrugging.

"Yes, it is," Ducky nodded with a sigh. He quickly stepped closer and laid a comforting hand on the special agent's left shoulder. "Jethro, remain still. You're in the hospital and just had surgery on your shoulder. Don't move."

Slowly, Gibbs opened his eyes, blinking a few times. The voice he heard sounded familiar and he stared at the silhouette in confusion as his vision was still blurry.

"Easy, Gibbs," Abby joined in. "You're okay, you're gonna be okay."

The first thing Gibbs tried, despite the voice telling him not to, was to sit up. Still not seeing clearly, he struggled against the hand holding him down until hot agony flared up in his chest, mainly on the right side. With a groan, he settled back down.

"Jehtro," Ducky said, shaking his head, "when I tell you not to move, I usually have a very good reason for that. I suggest you start listening to me."

"Duck..." the agent said, his voice hoarse. "What happened?"

Abby reached over to grab a glass from the night stand and held it closer to the patient, so he could sip. "Here, boss-man. This will ease your throat."

Gibbs wanted to take the glass himself, but Abby had it on his injured side and his arm was strapped to his chest, while Ducky, obviously still not convinced he would keep still, was blocking his other arm. Resigning, he opened his mouth, found the straw and sipped. The cool water immediately did wonders to his throat. "Thanks."

Abby gloated. "Wow!" she called out. "Gibbs said thanks. You heard that, didn't you, Ducky? Nobody is going to believe me, when I tell them Gibbs said thanks to me." She turned a bit to place the glass back on the night stand. Despite the fact that the only two people in the world Gibbs would actually say thanks to on occasion were in the room at that moment, she couldn't resist as she teasingly looked up at Mallard. "Did he really say thanks? I think he did. I know he did. Didn't he?"

"Abby!" Gibbs grunted.

The girl bowed her head and leaned back in her chair. "Sorry, boss-man."

"Now, Jethro. Tell me what you remember," Ducky said. He stepped a bit back while taking in the special agent's pale features and dilated pupils.

"We were processing the scene... you were outside with the body of that Marine," Gibbs started. "I heard a noise coming from the building behind us and went to check it out.... DiNozzo was right with me." His eyes widened, an alarmed expression appearing on his face.

"Relax, Tony's fine," Abby hurried to reassure her boss. "Everybody's fine."

Relieved, Gibbs continued. "There was somebody inside... he took a shot at us... I returned fire. Did I get him?"

Dr. Mallard nodded. "Yes, Jethro. You got him. And he got you too, as you might have figured out by now."

"You really need to be more careful in the future, Gibbs. I was so scared," Abby joined in.

A faint smile appeared on Gibbs' face. "I'm okay, Abs." He looked back at the medical examiner. "So, what's the damage, Duck?"

"The bullet was a .45 caliber and entered your right shoulder just below your collarbone. It did quite some damage to the brachia plexus on its way out. They've performed neural surgery, repairing torn nerves and blood vessels. You've lost quite some blood, but you've already received a transfusion to replace that. Although they can't be certain, the doctors are positive that, with therapy, you will regain full use of your arm. It reminds me..."

"Well," Gibbs interrupted his friend. "In that case, I'm going home." He disconnected the IV-line attached to his hand before the medical examiner had the chance to respond and sat up.

"Jethro, you're in no condition to get up," Ducky protested, mentally berating himself for not having seen this coming.

"There he goes..." Abby said, making a helpless gesture with her hands.

Swinging his legs over the edge, Gibbs didn't listen. Despite the dizziness and pain he stubbornly got to his feet, took two steps then tipped over as his world faded to complete blackness.

Mallard only barely caught the tumbling man and could do nothing except guide him to the floor. He heard Abby yell Gibbs' name as she came running around the bed.

She stopped at the sight of her boss, sprawled out mostly on the floor and partially in Ducky's arms.

"I don't think he can hear you, Abigail," Ducky said as he gently rolled the unconscious man over. Placing two fingers on Gibbs' neck, Ducky checked his pulse.

"Is he all right?" the lab-girl asked in concern.

"I'm sure he will be," the older man tried to reassure her. "He wasn't strong enough to get up yet. He probably just fainted."

"So much for boss-man not going for a walk in that outfit," Abby sighed, feeling a bit better knowing Gibbs would be okay.

"My dear, with all the medication he has in his system, I doubt he has realized that. In fact, he probably won't even remember this little stunt. You didn't peek, did you?"

Abby blushed. "Of course not!" she protested, before batting an eye at the older man. "Well, only a little. You turned him around too fast. Shall I get some help?"

"Yes, please. I do not think I'm able to get Jethro back into bed all by myself. He's just too heavy to handle for an old man." Dr. Mallard shifted, trying to stretch out his bad leg.

"Oh, you're not old, Ducky. Not old at all," Abby answered as she headed for the door. She threw a worried glance over her shoulder. "I'll be right back."

"I know you will," Ducky replied, knowing she couldn't hear him any more as she'd left the room. "Jethro, what am I going to do with you?" he continued, turning his attention back to the patient on the floor. "If you aren't going to listen, young Abigail is going to tie you to the bed...I remember a situation..."

His story however got interrupted again, as the door swung open and Abby returned with a doctor and a nurse on her heels.

"What's he doing out of bed?" the young doctor asked, rushing forward to kneel next to his patient.

"I assume he planned on going home," Mallard tried to explain.

The doctor threw him an exaggerated look. "He can't go home..." One hand on the patient's wrist, the doctor counted in silence.

Dr. Mallard shrugged his shoulders. "I know that! Convincing him, however, is the problem."

"Gibbs never listens," Abby filled in. "He hates hospitals and leaves as soon as he's able."

"At least now he knows he can't leave. I hope," Ducky replied as soon as he noticed the young doctor was finished with the counting. "Shall I give you a hand?"

The young doctor and the nurse were quite competent, however, and had their patient settled back on the bed before Dr. Mallard had gotten to his feet.

The nurse reconnected the IV-line, shaking her head in dismay. She stepped away as the doctor performed a quick exam. "I don't think he hurt himself any further. We'll check his bandages just to make sure he didn't rip any stitches. And well, well. He's waking up again."

"Stubborn," Abby stated happily. She walked around the bed and took her previous position in the uncomfortable, plastic hospital chair. "Plain stubborn. That's what he is."

Dr. Mallard, a faint smile around his lips at Abby's words, stepped closer just in case he was needed. He looked in worry at the younger man in the bed. Gibbs was indeed struggling to open his eyes.

"Agent Gibbs, I need you to stay still," the young doctor ordered as soon as the agent managed to look around.

Gibbs stared at him in confusion. He had no idea who this man was, what he was doing here and how he ended up back in bed when in his memory he'd just left it moments ago. The whole right side of his torso burned and he couldn't hide a grimace as he shifted in the bed.

"Agent Gibbs, are you in pain?" the doctor asked and signaled the nurse without waiting for a confirmation.

Gibbs just glared at him, then looked around and found Ducky's face. "Ducky, I want to go home," he stated, ignoring the question. He was unaware of the nurse, who had followed the doctor's silent instructions and had injected some pain medication in the IV-line.

The young doctor shook his head and stepped back, wanting to see how the NCIS medical examiner would handle their stubborn patient.

Ducky moved forward. He placed a comforting hand on Gibbs' left arm. "I know, Jethro," he replied gently. "And you will. But not now. We'll discuss this in the morning."

The medication doing its job, Gibbs' eyes were already getting heavy. Still fighting, he mumbled drowsily, "Don't want to wait till the morning."

"I'm afraid you'll have to. Go to sleep, Jethro," Ducky encouraged with a stern voice as if daring the other man to disobey.

Shifting once more, the special agent tried to find a comfortable position before giving his friend a faint nod. The eyes slid close. The people around the bed sighed in relief.

Gibbs slept.

---oo---oo---


	7. Back to work

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Special agent Kate Todd was already going through her files early in the morning, when the elevator door opened and Tony DiNozzo came walking out, taking a bite from a chocolate bar.

Looking up, Kate saw him munching and she had to ask, "Didn't you finish that bar yesterday, Tony?"

His mouth still full, Tony took off his coat, turned to glance at his partner and answered with a satisfied grin, "Yessh, d-isis-a-newone."

Kate's eyes widened. "What did you just say? Did you get another bar of chocolate from that old lady? What did you do now?"

Tony shrugged and swallowed, turning the remainder of the bar around between his fingers. "Is it so hard to believe that she actually likes me, Kate?" He broke off another piece and stuck it in his mouth. He sat down behind his desk, swirled around with the chair and then placed his feet on the desk as he lent back with his hands behind his neck.

Kate shook her head. "You better start working on the case before Gibbs catches you, Tony," she warned.

"Gibbs is in the hospital, Kate," Tony reminded her.

"Gee, Tony, as if I didn't know that. But that doesn't mean he's going to demand an update on this case as soon as he's out," Kate responded. "And I'm sure he will get out soon, as he was already trying to leave yesterday."

Tony's feet dropped back to the floor. Elbows leaning on the desk, he bent in Kate's direction. "Really?" he asked seriously. "What happened? Were you there?"

"No, Abby and Ducky were there. Abby called me last night. Apparently, Gibbs woke up from surgery and got out of bed, fully intending to go home." She rolled her eyes.

Tony smiled. "That sounds like our boss," he grinned. "So, who stopped him, Ducky? I wish I'd seen that, only Ducky can get away with bossing Gibbs around."

"Ducky didn't need to stop him, Tony. Gibbs did a nice impression of a nose dive and Ducky was barely in time to catch him," Kate explained. She looked up at the elevator door opening once more and saw McGee entering.

"Ouch," Tony commented. "That explains why he was totally out of it in the evening."

"What?" McGee joined them. "Is Gibbs all right? Were you with him last night?"

"Well, yeah, McGee. I went to check on him last night," Tony threw him a look. "I did kinda feel his life slip away under my fingers that morning, so I was kinda worried about him..."

"We were all worried, Tony," Kate answered.

"Yeah, I know," Tony said. "Anyway, he slept through my entire visit."

"No surprise there," Kate figured. "According to Abby they gave him some pretty strong drugs after his little stunt." She turned to look at McGee. "Gibbs came to after the surgery and decided to get out of bed and go home. And ended up face down on the floor."

"Wow," McGee commented. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Yes, probie," Tony reassured their youngest member of the team. "Gibbs is going to be fine. Grumpy, maybe. Furious for getting shot. Determined to find out what that guy was doing there. But he's going to be fine."

Kate filled in, "According to Ducky, there will be no permanent damage from the gunshot wound. Gibbs will regain full use of his arm."

McGee sighed in relief. "That's good."

"But," Tony clapped his hands, suddenly getting right back to business. "He's going to be pissed if he finds us here wasting our time. What have we got? Kate?"

"No id or whatsoever on the body of the marine," Kate immediately started her report. "I'm sure Abby will run his prints and DNA, so hopefully we'll get a match soon. The same goes for our shooter. No wallet, no id. Nothing. I've run his photo through the databases but came up empty. I hope Abby will find something."

"Probie," Tony called out, using his best command voice. "Go and help Abby. We need more on this case."

"Yes, boss," McGee responded automatically, then quickly corrected himself, "yes, Tony."

Tony just smiled as he watched McGee get into the elevator. He then grabbed his gun and the keys of the car and got up. "Kate, with me."

"Where are we going?" she asked, getting up herself and also grabbing her gear.

"Back to the warehouse."

"Looking for what?"

"I don't know, Kate," Tony responded, a little irritated. "Anything that tells us what happened to that Marine."

Kate sighed. Sometimes with Gibbs not around, Tony tried too hard to sound like him.

---oo---oo---

**FORENSIC LAB, NSIC HEADQUARTERS**

"What have you got, Abs?" Gibbs asked as he walked into the lab. His right arm was immobilized and he had one large cup of Caf-Pow balanced in his right hand partly hidden under the sling. In his left hand he held another cup, but that one was plain black coffee.

"Gibbs!" Abby turned around, a huge smile on her face. "You're back! You're back!" She was about to flung herself at him, then stepped back, mindful for his injured arm. Carefully, she took the Caf-Pow from his right hand and put it on the desk then hugged him gently. "Thank you. How are you? You look kind of wobbly there, Gibbs," she rambled as she stepped back to take a good look at him.

He smiled. "I'm fine, Abs," he reassured her.

"Really?" the lab-girl asked. "You don't look fine to me. You look like a ghost. And as much as I like ghosts, I don't like you to look like one, Gibbs. You need to regain some color on your cheeks. Are you tired? Maybe you need to rest. Did you sleep at all at the hospital? "

"Abby!" Gibbs tried to stop her with his firm voice.

"Well, I'm just worried, Gibbs," she excused herself, with one hand absentmindedly fidgeting with her short skirt. "You've been shot yesterday and you probably shouldn't be here yet."

"Abby... the case?"

Shrugging, the goth took her Caf-Pow and sipped. "You're fine. I know. You said so." She placed the cup back on the table and threw him a pleading look. "Promise me you take it easy, Gibbs? Promise?"

He nodded. "I promise."

Satisfied with the honesty in his voice, Abby walked over to the table where she had the skateboard lying upside down. "I've processed the board. Didn't expect to find anything unusual, but checked anyway. Nothing. The boy slammed into our dead marine with it. End of story." She looked up at her boss-man. "You can take it back to the boy, if you want. I don't need it anymore."

"Thanks, Abs," he said sincerely. "Jimmy will be pleased to have it back."

Abby turned to her computer and quickly typed in some commands. She pointed at the big screen. "I've got a hit on our dead Marine's prints. His name is Arthur Makepeace. He was a second lieutenant stationed at Quantico. He was going through training to become a Marine security guard."

Gibbs stepped closer to the screen to take a close look at the ID of their victim. The lieutenant had been in his early thirties, had blond short hair and had been unmarried, according to the information displayed on the screen.

"McGee and Kate are already checking him out," Abby explained. She gave another command on the keyboard.

Gibbs found himself looking at the picture of a dead man sprawled on the floor, two small bullet holes visible on the left side of his chest.

"This," Abby continued, "is the man that shot you. And you got him, as you can see." She'd come over to stand next to Gibbs and pointed at the man's chest. "Proves you are an excellent shot," she grinned.

"What do we know about him?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Well, that's the frustrating part, Gibbs," Abby complained. "I didn't get anything on his prints. I've got his DNA sample running but nothing so far..." She turned to look over to the table. "This is his gun. It's just your typical kind of weapon, nothing unusual, nothing that could point me into the direction of the owner."

"Is it registered?" Gibbs asked, although he knew she would have checked and told him so if she'd discovered something.

"I don't know. The serial number has been wiped off. Thoroughly, I must say. I've tried to read it anyway, using my usual mixes of chemicals, but it was of no use."

"How about these?" Gibbs picked up one of the three tiny round containers and looked at the bullet inside.

"These two," Abby pointed at the one Gibbs was holding and one on the table, "were extracted from the dead man's chest. Surprise, surprise... they came from your Sig."

Gibbs shrugged, already knowing two of them must have been from his weapon.

Abby picked up the third container and showed it to him. "This is the one that slammed a hole in you." She winced as she glanced at him. "Sorry about that. Kate found it. It was in the wall behind you. It's a match to his gun. The blood on it is also a match. It's yours."

Gibbs looked at her.

"Hey," Abby protested before he could say anything. "You always tell us not to assume, but to double check. So I did."

Knowing she was right, he flashed her a smile. "But?"

"But... There's no prints on the bullet, not on the ones still in the chamber of his weapon either. He must have been wearing gloves when he loaded it, Gibbs."

Gibbs placed the container back on the desk. "Anything else?"

"No!" she exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice. "I've got nothing from his gun. I've run his clothes, his shoes... We've been trying to match his photo to the missing persons database and came up empty. Nothing on his prints, nothing on his DNA, although the search hasn't been completed yet. Kate and Tony have been back at the warehouse to see if he had a vehicle parked somewhere close by, but they haven't found it." She looked at him. "It's like this guy didn't exist, Gibbs!"

"Well, he did," he said as he headed for the door, coffee still in his hand. "The bastard shot me. Keep looking, Abs."

---oo---oo---


	8. Identifying the body

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

The elevator door slid open and Gibbs stepped into the bullpen, sipping the last bit from his coffee. Walking towards his desk, he dropped the empty cup in a trash can.

"Gibbs," Kate started, looking at him in surprise. She'd expected him back soon, but she hadn't thought it would be today.

"Boss," McGee nodded, looking pleased at his return.

"Hey, boss," Tony also greeted the older man. "Good to have you back."

"How are you feeling, Gibbs?" Kate asked as she took in his features.

"Fine," he growled, tired already from the well meant attention. "So what have we got?"

Tony got up, signaled McGee to get some information on the big screen and rolled his chair over. "Here, boss. Sit down."

Gibbs threw him an annoyed look.

"Look, it's obvious you're tired. You've just had surgery on your shoulder and I'm sure Ducky only let you come here after you promised him to take it easy. So sit down and we'll tell you about the case."

Gibbs glared at his senior field agent.

Tony, not backing down, held out his hand and pointed at the chair. "Before you fall down? Again?"

Rolling his eyes Gibbs slapped him at the back of his head but gave in and sat down. "Now, what have we got?" he slowly repeated his earlier question.

The ID of Lieutenant Arthur Makepeace was displayed on the big screen. Kate started with their report. "Our victim is Second Lieutenant Arthur Makepeace. He was 32 years old and single. Stationed at Quantico, where he started the training to become a Marine security guard last year. According to his records, he was a pretty good student. The training is extremely difficult and not many students succeed in finishing it."

"I know," Gibbs confirmed.

"Lieutenant Makepeace had every sign of finishing the training in a few months. In fact, his CO was already looking for an embassy for him to start his first twelve-month tour of duty."

McGee replaced the image on the screen with the one of the lieutenant's CO. "This is Major David Manners, the CO. He's been with the training for over fifteen years," he explained. "His record is clean."

"Has the lieutenant been reported missing?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Yes. He didn't show up for class two days ago. I've spoken to Major Manners over the phone and he informed me that they've repeatedly tried his house, his cell and other places they knew but without any luck," Tony joined in. "They filed him missing after twenty-four hours."

"What's your opinion on our victim, Kate?" Gibbs tilted his head to look at his profiler.

"Our lieutenant had an excellent service record, Gibbs. He was a very intelligent young man, who knew exactly what he wanted. He has had a few posts before getting in at Quantico, all of which he fulfilled very well." Kate threw her hands up in resignation. "He's the perfect Marine, Gibbs. Came from a stable family, honest, hard working..."

"He's dead, Kate," Gibbs interrupted her. "And I want to know why. I want to know about his family, who he's been dating, what he liked for dinner and what he did off-duty. Dig deeper, Kate." Without waiting for her confirmation Gibbs continued. "Tony?"

"Yes, boss," Tony quickly answered. "I've already started digging in his previous posts and I'm looking for anything that could tell us more."

"Good. What are you waiting for?"

"Err, boss," McGee hesitatingly started. "I've been going over the lieutenant's phone records."

"And?" Impatiently, Gibbs turned to look at his youngest field agent.

"Here's the cell phone records," McGee's fingers pressed a few keys and the records appeared on the big screen. McGee stepped around his desk and approached the screen, pointing with his finger. "As you can see, these calls confirm the statement of the CO. The base has tried to get in contact with the lieutenant."

"Good, McGee. And this helps us, how?"

"Not that," McGee stammered. "There's also been calls from one particular location. Several calls." He pointed at the different highlighted lines in the list.

Interested now, Gibbs leaned forward. "Where from?"

"Colorado," McGee informed him with a self assured nod, "Cheyenne Mountain."

"Cheyenne Mountain?" Gibbs asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"And?" Gibbs demanded, knowing there was more McGee wasn't telling yet.

"And I also managed to determine who was making the calls," McGee explained, pulling up an ID on the screen. "Colonel Jonathan O'Neill."

Gibbs looked at the image in front of him. It showed an Air Force Colonel, dressed in his uniform. The Colonel looked fierce, his shoulders straight and his face showing no emotion on the picture. He was a tall man, Gibbs could tell, and he looked like his age, in his mid-forties with his hair a fair shade of shiny silver. "Abbs would love him," Gibbs couldn't help thinking.

"I've been able to trace the calls back to his office," McGee continued. "And the colonel has also called Lieutenant Makepeace from his cell."

"When did those calls start?" Gibbs asked.

"Four days ago," McGee answered. "So that would be before the Lieutenant was missing."

"Does the records show they actually spoke with each other?" Gibbs demanded.

"I don't think so," McGee answered. "There are no actual calls listed lasting longer than ten seconds."

"What has Cheyenne Mountain, or anybody stationed there, that connects it to our victim?" Kate wondered.

"It's the location of CMOC," Gibbs explained. "Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center. Hosting four commands, NORAD, USNORTHCOM, USSTRATCOM and the Air Force Space Command. The Command Center is located 2,000 feet underground and all military organizations have people stationed there."

"Marines also?" Tony asked.

"Yes," Gibbs nodded.

"That still doesn't answer the question what an Air Force Colonel wants from our dead Marine," Tony commented.

"Not just an Air Force colonel," Kate joined in, as she was staring at her screen. "But a very important one at that. Colonel O'Neill is Major-General George Hammond's second in command of the SGC. I can't find anything that explains what that means, though. The only thing I can find is that they specialize in deep space radar telemetry."

"Sounds like a pretty important guy," Tony replied.

"Important or not, if he has something to do with our case, I want to know about it," Gibbs decided as he got up from the chair. "DiNozzo!"

"Yes, boss," Tony curtly answered.

"Go to the lieutenant's house and get me some answers. Kate," Gibbs turned to look at his female agent. "I want a full profile on this colonel. I want to know what his connection is to our Marine and where the colonel was when our Marine was killed. McGee..."

"Boss."

"Good work on the telephone records. Go with Tony and get me more."

"What about you, boss?" Tony asked as Gibbs walked towards the elevator.

"I'm going to autopsy. Maybe Ducky has something," Gibbs called over his shoulder before stepping inside the elevator.

---oo---oo---


	9. What happened to Arthur?

**ARTHUR MAKEPEACE'S RESIDENCE, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA**

DiNozzo and McGee got out of the car. Tony had parked it in the street, near the front of Arthur Makepeace's house. It was just an average, small townhouse. Wooden fence at the edge of the property, the lawn perfectly mowed, not many flowers and a gravel path leading to the front door.

The house looked well maintained. The windows were clean, the paint on the house looked new. It all matched the profile of an intelligent, precise Marine. Everything in order.

"Probie," Tony ordered, looking over his shoulder at McGee. "Open the door."

McGee gave a curt nod and rang the front door ring. That earned him a surprised look from his colleague. McGee shrugged. "There might be somebody inside," he suggested.

Tony pulled a face. "Like who, McGee? His mother? The lieutenant didn't have a relationship..."

"Not that we know of." McGee waited and listened for anything moving, then quickly picked the lock and pushed the door open.

"You're lucky Gibbs isn't here, Probie," Tony sneered. "He'd been kicking down that door and your ass with it."

McGee wanted to answer but fell silent at the sight that greeted him on the inside of the house. His mouth fell open as he drew out his gun.

Tony had responded equally and they proceeded by the book, each covering a part of the house.

"Clear!" McGee called out from the kitchen.

"Clear!" Tony responded, after checking the master bedroom.

Holstering their weapons when the place was found secure, the two agents stood looking over what was the living room of the house.

The whole place was torn down, as if it had been thoroughly searched by somebody. The floor was piled with stuff that once had been either on the wall or on the inside of some piece of furniture. Drawers were pulled open, the contents thrown over the floor. Closets were left open, and the shelves were all empty. The leather couch was cut to pieces, and pieces of the interior were sticking out. Picture frames lay shattered on the floor, the glass in a thousand pieces. Nothing, and really nothing in the house was left untouched.

"I'd say somebody got here before us," Tony commented dryly.

"How did they get in?" McGee turned to examine the door. "There's no sign of forced entry."

"Maybe they came in through the back," DiNozzo figured. "Or maybe they had a key to the front door."

"What were they looking for?" McGee wondered.

"Could be anything. Drugs, money... they usually don't kill you for nothing," Tony replied.

"You think they found what they were looking for?"

"How should I know?" Tony sighed. "Go and grab our stuff, Probie. It's going be a long afternoon."

---oo---oo---

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Dr. Mallard was talking to the body on the autopsy table. He always did that. First, because he found it particularly difficult to stay quiet for long, in fact, he was used to chatting all the time. Living with his geriatric mother he didn't even notice anymore that he was constantly talking, and constantly repeating himself as the old lady didn't hear too well. The other reason why he talked to the bodies was because he was cutting them up, -with respect of course, but still- and it was his way of apologizing.

His assistant, Jimmy Palmer, had needed quite some time to get used to Mallard's ongoing rambling. At first, the younger man never seemed to know when he was spoken to, or when the voice of the senior medical examiner was directed at somebody else. Jimmy, however, was not there at the moment, as he was taking some things to Abby.

"You poor fellow," Mallard said, leaning over the table, bringing his own face close to the one of his 'patient'. "This wasn't the way you expected to go, I'd say."

He'd been going over the body of the lieutenant already and had made some disturbing discoveries. "You know, I've seen quite a lot in my life. And you remind me of the time I was in Europe, back in... the seventies. Oh, dear, I hoped I'd never have to witness another body like that again..." The older man gave a sad sigh. "But don't you worry, my friend. I'll take real good care of you now. And they'll figure out who did this to you, I promise."

Only now was he aware of the doors to autopsy sliding open and familiar footsteps coming up behind him. "What are you promising him, Duck?"

"Jethro," Ducky said, placing the scalpel back on the table before turning around to look at his visitor. "I was merely promising him that you will get the ones who did this to him..." he flashed a faint smile, "you always do."

Gibbs glanced at his old friend, then headed for the autopsy table. "What have you got, Duck?"

"Hmm... as you already suspected," Mallard stepped beside the Marine and took the dead man's head in his hands, turning it to point out the bruises. "Our friend has been tortured, Jethro. Here you can see deep bruising consistent with repeatedly being slapped in the face. At the back of his head there's a fair amount of swelling so he has been hit with something heavier there."

"Maybe knocked him out?" Gibbs asked, bending forward to take a closer look.

"That is possible. Now here," Ducky's hands moved towards the victim's torso, which was not only black and blue but also had several burn marks all across the front. "These burns are made by some electrical device, to inflict maximum pain." He shook his head at the thought of such brutality.

"Electrocution," Gibbs said, his voice suddenly grim. "Those bastards..."

"Indeed," Mallard continued as he lifted the lieutenant's left hand. The fingers were all swollen and a dark shade of blue. "His fingers have all been dislocated, some broken. The elbow has been dislocated as well, which must have been extremely painful." Ducky shuddered. Pointing at the right shoulder, Ducky wasn't finished. "Shoulder, also dislocated, consistent with a sharp twist of his arm behind his back. Now here," he walked around the table and headed for the light board with X-rays.

Gibbs followed him and glanced at the images being displayed.

Ducky pointed as he explained. "Collarbone snapped. Broken and cracked ribs here and here. Kidneys, both severely bruised, consistent with several punches to the stomach and back. The poor man." With a sigh, he faced Gibbs. "I want whoever did this on my table, Jethro."

Gibbs, knowing Ducky for many years now, was surprised at the sudden harsh statement. He'd heard it once before, with the terrorist Ari Aswari, but what that man had done had been personal for Ducky. For all of them, for that matter.

"We'll get him, Ducky," he promised. "We'll get him. But none of this killed him, right?"

Shaking his head, Ducky replied, "No." He pointed at the X-ray, right at the part showing the neck. "This, however, did."

Gibbs had seen it too many times now for Ducky to need to explain. "His neck was snapped," he nodded in understanding.

"With what had been done to him, I think he must have been glad to see it end," Ducky figured.

"It means," Gibbs looked at his friend, "that our friend has given them what they wanted, Duck. He wouldn't have been dead yet if he hadn't."

"That's a possibility," Mallard agreed.

Gibbs turned and searched for something else.

"You are looking for the body of the person you shot," Ducky asked, heading for the cooler. "He's in here. I haven't had time yet to start with him."

"I need to know his name, Duck," Gibbs urged.

"I know you do," Ducky nodded, taking a good look at his friend. "But this has been enough for today. It's getting late, so I'm going to drive you home," he held up his hand to stop any protest Jethro might want to give. "No objections, Jethro. I need to get home and look after mother and you, my friend," he tilted his head with a worried frown, "you look like you could use some rest."

"I'm fine, Duck," Gibbs replied, slightly annoyed but unable to make stronger objections. Although he'd never admit it, he was getting tired and his shoulder was throbbing.

"And it's my job to make sure you stay that way," Ducky stated firmly. He took off his lab coat and moved to get his own coat and hat. "And there's always tomorrow." It didn't take him long to put on his light brown coat and he placed the hat on his head. "Are you coming?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"

---oo---oo---


	10. Profiling Colonel O'Neill

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

The next morning, the team gathered, Tony munching on another chocolate bar, which earned him a stare from Kate. McGee had also arrived, and Gibbs, as per usual, came in sipping from a large cup of coffee.

"DiNozzo," he called for his senior field agent. "Anything from the lieutenant's house?"

"Yes, boss," Tony started. "We found the whole place turned upside down. Obviously somebody has been looking for something. All closets and drawers were emptied, everything scattered over the floor... Couch ripped apart, pictures cut out of their frames..."

"The place had been thoroughly searched through, boss," McGee filled in.

"And they've found what they were looking for," Gibbs guessed with a nod in McGee's direction.

"Err, yes," McGee said with a surprised frown. "We've found a secret hiding place, built inside the wall, behind the fireplace. It was cleverly hidden."

"But they've found it anyway, 'cause it was ripped open. And empty," Tony quickly interrupted McGee. "How did you guess, boss?"

"Well, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered, "usually they torture you for information. People who use torture techniques are clever enough to inflict extreme pain without killing the victim."

"Oh," nodded McGee.

"Our lieutenant turned up dead, so he must have given them what they wanted," Tony concluded. He pulled a face, trying to imagine what the Marine had gone through. "It must have been really bad."

"You think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs replied, his voice showing some irritation. "Anything else from the house?"

"No," McGee continued. "Nothing unusual, we've found nothing that could point us to the reason why they've captured him in the first place. There's no indication he was into things like drugs or smuggling."

"He was hiding something and they killed him for it," Gibbs growled. "Look harder, McGee. Kate? What have you got on our Air Force Colonel?"

Kate flipped the image of Colonel O'Neill on the big screen. "He's one big mystery, Gibbs," she started. "And one tough guy. Joined the Air Force at a young age, had the usual reprimands before his career started to take a more serious turn. He married a woman called Sara in the mid-eighties and they had a son together, named Charlie. Joined the Special Forces, and from that point there's not much listed in his file, most of it probably being classified. He was severely injured during one particular mission to the Middle East, which is listed as a parachute mishap...."

Kate flipped through her notes before looking back up, "From what I've discovered he landed on the wrong side of the border in Iran and crawled out on his own.... took him nine days. Skull fracture, broken bones... recovery period was close to four months and he was promoted to captain directly after that mission."

"Wow," Tony commented.

"Several other missions, all to hostile areas, no details. Classified... everything is listed as classified. It's a wonder McGee managed to get me these details... There's a record of Gulf War I. The captain has been there as well, and here it gets real interesting. He was captured by the Iraqi's and was a POW for four months. Got promoted to major, straight after his return to the States. Took him close to six months to get back to active duty."

"Six months?" McGee asked in surprise.

"Well, McGee," Gibbs looked hard at the younger man. "You think the Iraqis treated him well during those four months?"

"Apparently not," McGee said, looking annoyed with himself for not thinking of that.

"How does one survive that?" Tony wondered.

"You forget it happened and get back to work, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped. There were just some things an ex-military man couldn't explain to younger civilians.

"Well," Kate continued, looking uncomfortable. "That's not all. In '94, his then eight years old son Charlie accidentally shot himself, with the gun O'Neill kept in a drawer in his bedroom. O'Neill, a colonel by then already with many medals and successful classified missions, left the Air Force. His marriage ended and he was depressed.."

"Which is perfectly understandable," Tony said with a slight shiver. "How did he get back on active duty?"

"The Air Force reinstated him in '96. From then on, he's been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain, first serving under a General West. General West retired in '97, and was replaced by Major-General George Hammond, who's still in charge today. Whatever the colonel has been doing there..." Kate looked back at her notes, "must be pretty important as well. I mean.... there are a lot of commendations, he's got an impressive set of ribbons and medals and even received a medal from the President himself."

Looking back up, Kate continued, "That. And his medical record, at least the part that McGee managed to get, is thicker that any I've ever seen, and they are all listed as training accidents. So either he's one pretty clumsy guy..."

"Or deep space telemetry is a crappy cover story for something else," Gibbs nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a pretty important guy to me," Tony concluded. "What does he have to do with one dead Marine lieutenant though?"

"He would be capable of torturing somebody," McGee said, his voice making it more a question then a statement.

Gibbs looked at Kate, expecting her to answer.

Kate gave a short nod. "Definitely. Special Forces trained, I'm sure this man has more ways to kill somebody with his bare hands then we all can come up with. He's tougher than your average Marine," she glanced at Gibbs, expecting him to comment to that.

However, Gibbs remained quiet, so she continued, "he has proven that. Dominant, intelligent, -he's got several degrees-, he wrote some excellent papers on tactical warfare. He's a highly skilled officer. Although he can get depressed to a level that it can become a serious problem, I think he has a great sense of humor. Once you've earned his respect, he'll be on your side forever. If you don't, I think he can completely ignore you, or block you out," she shivered slightly, "his anger can reach such depths that you really don't want to be the one he's directing that anger at. He's extremely loyal to the Air Force and too honorable to kill without a very, very good reason. I'm convinced that he would disobey a direct order to kill -or any order at that- if he doesn't agree with the reason why."

She paused to look up and see if they were all still listening. "Did he kill our l ieutenant? I don't know... it depends on what the man has done. I'd rather think Colonel O'Neill is just involved somehow..."

At that moment, the phone on Gibbs' desk rang. He turned to pick up the receiver and listened. "I'll be right up," he answered and threw the receiver back down.

Getting up, he looked at his team. "We'll find out soon enough. A General Hammond from Cheyenne Mountain is calling, asking why we've been doing research on Colonel O'Neill." He headed for the stairs, calling, "What are you waiting for? Come on!"

---oo---oo---


	11. In contact with the SGC

**MULTIPLE THREAT ALERT CENTER, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

The team followed Gibbs to MTAC, the 24-hours terrorism watch center, and waited for the iris scan to complete before they entered the room. Gibbs approached the big screen, took the proffered headset from one of the operators and put it on.

General Hammond was sitting behind a huge desk. He was a middle aged man, bald and looked like he'd gained a little bit too much weight over the years. The national flag was visible on a pole behind the General's back. A statue of an eagle was sitting on the right corner of the desk, and a statue of a fighter jet was standing next to it.

A woman with short blond hair, dressed in a black, short-sleeved t-shirt, was fidgeting with the microphone. She said something, but her voice couldn't be heard. Looking up at the camera, she smiled then returned her attention to the mike.

Tony let out an exaggerated, deep sigh, followed by an impressed, "Wow."

Gibbs slapped him on the back of his head.

Shaking his head, as if to clear it, Tony apologized. "Sorry, boss."

The woman adjusted some settings and tapped on the mike. The noise now came through loud and clear. She apparently knew that as well as she gave a curt nod at the General. "All right, Sir. You can talk to them now."

"General Hammond," Gibbs greeted the man. "I'm Special Agent Gibbs. This is my team," he pointed with his thumb to clarify. "Special Agents DiNozzo, Todd and McGee."

"Special Agent Gibbs," Hammond started. "I've been informed you've been making inquiries about one of my people, Colonel O'Neill."

"Yes, Sir," Gibbs answered. "We're investigating the death of a Marine. He was a second lieutenant, stationed at Quantico, where he was studying to become a Marine security guard."

"And what does Colonel O'Neill have to do with this?" The general sounded irritated.

"He's been making phone calls to the Marine's cell, General. And I need to know why. I also like to know where he was the last couple of days."

"He was here, Agent Gibbs," General Hammond replied, his voice sharp. "What's the name of your dead Marine?"

"Lieutenant Arthur Makepeace, Sir."

The general exchanged a look with the woman who was still standing next to him. Hammond's face showed no emotion, but Gibbs saw a brief glance of surprise on the woman's face before she corrected herself and looked neutral again.

"I'd like to speak to Colonel O'Neill, Sir," Gibbs continued.

"The colonel is not a suspect in this, is he?" Hammond demanded.

"You said yourself he was at Cheyenne Mountain at the time of the murder, General. I take your word for that."

"Good. I take it I don't have to remind you that the colonel is a highly respected officer. He's my second in command and I can assure you he's got nothing to do with the death of your Marine."

"So noted. He was however trying to get into contact with the lieutenant, though. So I've got some questions, he might have some answers," Gibbs said. "I've got a murder to solve and need to look into everything."

"Fair enough," General Hammond nodded. He threw a quick glance at his watch. "Colonel O'Neill is on his way to Washington as we speak. He will be landing at Langley AFB at 1300h."

"We'll pick him up, Sir," Gibbs nodded, showing no surprise at the sudden announcement. "Is there anything you can tell me about your connection to Lieutenant Makepeace?"

"Colonel O'Neill will explain it all you, Agent Gibbs. But right now I can already tell you that Colonel Robert Makepeace was stationed here, under my command."

"Colonel Makepeace. As in?"

"As in Lieutenant Arthur Makepeace's older brother."

"Ah," Gibbs replied. "_**Was**_ under your command, Sir?"

"Yes. Right now, Colonel Makepeace is imprisoned. He's being accused of treason against his country and will be sent to Leavenworth next week."

"What was he selling and to whom?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm afraid that's classified," Hammond said. "It was however Colonel O'Neill who caught him in the act. The case we have against him is as solid as a rock."

"Do you have any reason to believe his younger brother was involved in this?" Gibbs continued, taking note of all information he was being given.

"I don't think so," General Hammond replied. "But I'm sure you and Colonel O'Neill will find out. I expect to be informed on your progress on this."

"Of course, Sir," Gibbs promised. "We'll be in touch."

With that, the connection was broken and Gibbs turned around. "DiNozzo," he addressed the younger man standing behind him.

"On it, boss. I'll go to Langley and pick up Colonel O'Neill." DiNozzo replied. "Shouldn't you have asked who that beautiful woman was, boss?"

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped angrily.

"I'm going, boss!" the younger man jumped out of slapping reach and rushed out of the room.

"Kate?" Gibbs turned to his female agent. "Why wasn't I told our lieutenant had an older brother, also a Marine?"

"We haven't found that out yet, Gibbs," Kate stammered.

"Well, find out, Kate! McGee! Help her. Get me everything there is on Colonel Robert Makepeace."

"We're on it, boss," McGee sharply replied. He followed Kate out of MTAC as they quickly got back to work.

Gibbs stood there lost in thoughts, staring at the now dark screen. A few minutes later he slowly took off the headset. "Well, well. This is getting interesting," he murmured before turning around to leave MTAC.

---oo---oo---

**LANGLEY AIR FORCE BASE, HAMPTON, VIRGINIA**

Colonel Jack O'Neill, dressed in his service dress uniform, put on his sunglasses as he crossed the square. Despite the turbulence he'd managed to catch some shuteye during the flight and, being used to traveling through time-zones, he knew he would have no trouble adjusting.

Major Samantha Carter, the only female member of his team, had briefed him on the latest events during the last hour of his flight. She'd informed him of the death of Arthur Makepeace, Robert's brother. That explained why he couldn't get in touch with the younger man. The biggest question now was whether his death was coincidental or not. His gut told him the rogue group of NID was somehow involved.

Carter had also told him about the NCIS team investigating the young lieutenant's death; that they knew that the colonel had been trying to reach the man over the phone and that they would arrange transport for him to NCIS headquarters.

She'd also sent him some background information on the NCIS members working on this case, so he'd have some idea of what to expect. If NID was involved, he had to make sure the case would be solved without revealing classified information about the Stargate program to NCIS.

He let the information he'd been reading aboard cross his mind. The leader of the NCIS team investigating this case was an ex Marine of his own age, a Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. Before joining NCIS he'd been a recon scout sniper. Has been married four times, first wife and daughter murdered. Wounded in Desert Storm, been in a coma for almost three weeks. Tony DiNozzo, senior field agent, a former Baltimore homicide cop, with NCIS for the last couple of years. Special Agent Caitlin Todd, a former secret service agent protecting the President... he couldn't wait to meet her. Joined NCIS last year after being fired from the service after having an affair with a colleague. Then there was the youngest member, a Timothy McGee, having only just joined the team.

He walked over to the parking lot, his observing eyes already spotted his ride, standing next to a dark blue sedan. His clothing, O'Neill noted, was of an Italian design, definitely not from Walmart.

The younger man, who had short dark hair and was wearing an expensive pair of sunglasses, had obviously spotted him, as he stepped forward. "Colonel O'Neill?"

"That would be me," O'Neill answered, placing the bag he was carrying down on the concrete. "Two ll's in that. And you are?"

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS," DiNozzo replied. "I've been asked to pick you up, sir."

O'Neill took off his sunglasses to take a good look at the agent, and proffered his hand, which the other man took and shook. "Nice to meet you, Agent Di-something."

Tony grinned. "You can call me Tony, sir. Did you have a good flight?"

"Oh, you know," O'Neill answered lightly. "Flying with the Air Force is always very comfy. Large seats, nice pillow, a blanket... slept for a few hours too."

DiNozzo looked into the dark brown eyes, trying to determine whether the colonel was kidding or not. "I wouldn't exactly call them comfortable, sir," he remarked, then noting the slight smirk on O'Neill's face. "Last time we took one I couldn't stay seated without holding on. My colleague, Kate? She's never flying Air Force anymore as there wasn't a ladies room on board. Our boss however? Slept like a baby. Must be a military thing."

Amused, O'Neill looked at the younger man.

"Well, we better get going. Keeping my boss waiting is never a good plan as he tends to get cranky," Tony got back to business. He opened the door to the back seat and pointed at the bag on the ground. "Let me get that for you."

"I'll do that," O'Neill replied. He picked up his bag and dropped it on the back seat. He put his sunglasses back on and walked around the car, heading for the passenger seat. Opening the door, he glanced over the roof of the car at the younger man. "All right, Tony. Lead the way."

---oo---oo---

_**author's notes: Thanx for reviewing again, you guys feed my pen! And I told yah he's coming... and there he is. Next, O'Neill is going to meet Gibbs. Excited?**_


	12. Gibbs & O'Neill finally meet

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Kate and Tim were doing background checks on Lieutenant Makepeace, both concentrating on his family in general and his older brother in particular. Gibbs had left the building, probably going for a refill of his coffee.

"Colonel Robert Makepeace," McGee read out loud. "A colonel for four years now, and stationed at Cheyenne Mountain for almost three years. Has a small apartment in Colorado Springs, but is hardly there, though."

Kate looked up from her files. "Why is that?"

"Payments of rent, electricity, phone bills and so on are all automated. His electrical bill however shows great difference in usage, as if he's not using his heater and lights for... like months," McGee looked up to meet Kate's gaze. "And I've also looked a little bit further in his phone records. There's long periods of time in which he made no phone call at all, then followed by a shorter period with some conversations."

"He's away a lot," Kate nodded in agreement.

"What are they doing inside that mountain?" McGee looked puzzled. "I can't imagine anything being that important that they won't let you outside for weeks?"

"Must be pretty important stuff," Kate replied. "But who says they spent their time inside that mountain? Maybe it's all a cover-up story for some secret missions elsewhere."

"Yeah, maybe," McGee looked back at his screen.

"What did he do prior to his job at Cheyenne Mountain?" Kate wanted to know.

"He was stationed at the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center in southern San Bernardino County, California. He was a teacher of the ground task force Training Command and one of the founders of the program Mojave Viper, a pre-operation Iraqi Freedom."

"So the colonel certainly is familiar with combat situations," Kate reasoned.

"I'd say so," McGee agreed. "Or he at least has enough knowledge of combat to be qualified as a trainer."

"What does that tell us?" Gibbs asked, surprising both agents by suddenly standing there, sipping from his coffee.

Kate shrugged. "That he's a highly trained officer who has a sudden interest in deep space telemetry?"

Gibbs grinned, then turned to McGee. "Found anything that could indicate his younger brother's involvement in the treason?"

McGee shook his head. "I've scanned the colonel's phone records, and none were made to his younger brother. There's a few calls to the state of Virginia, but they all trace back to an old girlfriend. No phone calls from the lieutenant's home to Colorado Springs either."

"They could have used a phone booth or a cell phone with one of those pre-paid cards," Kate suggested. "And they could have met in person."

Gibbs gave a brief nod. "Look further, McGee." He looked up as the elevator door slid open.

Tony DiNozzo stepped out, followed by a tall Air Force colonel, dressed in his service dress uniform, ribbons pinned neatly in rows on his chest. His appearance didn't go by unnoticed, as everybody in the bullpen looked up from his or her work to throw an admiring glance at the visitor.

DiNozzo led the way, babbling like a tour host, as he indicated around the bullpen, explaining things to the colonel.

The colonel however wasn't paying attention to the bullpen, nor did he seem to be aware of the people that were staring at him. His eyes quickly darted from left to right and his gaze found McGee, then Kate before making eye contact with Gibbs.

"Colonel O'Neill," Gibbs started. He quickly finished his coffee and tossed the empty paper cup in the trash can. "Welcome to NCIS."

"Special Agent Gibbs," O'Neill responded with a nod. He raised a hand to take off his cap, then quickly ran a hand through his short silver hair.

Gibbs pointed. "Special Agents Todd and McGee."

Colonel O'Neill acknowledged them both with a nod. "I'm not a big fan of formalities," he excused himself for keeping it brief, then looked at the big screen, where a picture of Robert Makepeace was shown. "So I heard you found this man's younger brother."

"We did," Gibbs replied. "Heard you were looking for him."

O'Neill glanced sideways. Apparently, Gibbs was also a man getting right to the point. "I was."

"Why?" Gibbs asked.

"Because," O'Neill answered, his dark brown eyes locking on the former gunnery sergeant, "his brother asked me to."

Gibbs frowned in surprise. "You mean after his arrest?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Don't know," O'Neill shrugged.

"Then why did you start looking for the younger man?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Because it seemed important to Robert. Because I owed him."

"All right," Gibbs, satisfied with that answer for the moment, decided to come forward with some information. "We found him. He's dead. Tortured, then murdered. Think it's got anything to do with what this guy," he pointed with his free arm at the screen, "was doing before he got busted?"

"That's what I intend to find out," O'Neill answered.

"What was Colonel Makepeace arrested for?" Kate asked.

"Treason," O'Neill replied, turning to look at the only woman in Gibbs' team.

"Yes, we heard that," Kate said. "What was he selling, and to whom?"

"That," O'Neill said with a shrug, briefly glancing at her, "would be... classified."

"Ah." That wasn't very helpful, Kate thought.

Colonel O'Neill turned back to look at Gibbs. "If these two cases are connected, we're going to have a problem. I can't give you classified information, and you know that."

"It's need to know..." Gibbs said, "and you think we don't need to know. What I'm interested in is finding the person responsible for the death of our Marine. If I can find him without that information, so be it. If I can't..." He paused, glaring at the colonel, "we _**are**_ going to have a problem."

O'Neill paused as well, without breaking eye-contact. After what seemed minutes, he replied, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, I'll give you all the help I can."

Gibbs, still not looking down, tried to determine the other man's honesty. Trusting his guts, he nodded and answered, "Fair enough." He turned to face the youngest member of his team. "McGee. Fill the colonel in."

McGee, his eyes still wide from staring at the scene that had taken place in front of him, let out a breath and stood up, his fingers running over his keyboard as he flipped some images on the big screen. "Two days ago, two boys, age fifteen, were riding their skateboards in Princeton Corner. They came around a corner of an alley and slammed into a dead body..." He continued his story, piece by piece explaining their findings, showing images on the screen when it was appropriate.

Colonel O'Neill listened, and slightly winced at the mention of the shooting in the warehouse. He frowned at the mention of the lieutenant's apartment being thoroughly searched. At the end of McGee's report, he wondered, "So you don't know who that guy in the warehouse is, and don't know if he's related to the murder?"

"Nope," Gibbs responded. "We haven't been able to identify him. His prints didn't show up in any of the databases we matched them against."

"And you said Lieutenant Makepeace was tortured? How?"

Gibbs started walking, indicating with his head for the other man to follow. "Come on, I'll show you."

Colonel O'Neill followed and both men got into the elevator which was going to take them down to autopsy.

---oo---oo---


	13. What Ducky discovered

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

"Mister Palmer, if you must do that, please do so without making it obvious to me," Dr. Mallard said, while bent over the naked and sliced-open body on the autopsy table.

Jimmy Palmer, cell in his hand, quickly hid it behind his back and looked up, eyes wide and cheeks turning slightly red like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Doctor?"

"Oh, please, Mister Palmer," Dr. Mallard replied. "Don't think I'm too old to understand what you are doing."

"What is it that you think I'm doing, Doctor?" Palmer asked. He'd snapped his phone shut and put it away, feeling a bit more in control of the situation since the older man still wasn't looking at him.

"Sending love vibrations through the air of course," Ducky replied, now raising his head to look at his assistant. "You really should be sending messages in your own time, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Doctor," Palmer apologized as he raised one hand to push his glasses back on his nose. It always amazed him how the older man caught on things while he wasn't even looking. Luckily the doctor had no idea what kind of messages Jimmy was sending, let alone to whom.

"It was back in the early seventies, I think," Ducky started to ramble, "when another assistant of mine wasn't paying attention to his job. Unfortunately, the body on which I was performing an autopsy, was some sort of time bomb." Grabbing the dead man's right hand, Dr. Mallard bent forward to take a closer look at one of the fingers. "Now what do we have here?" he quietly mentioned, reaching back to take a small container from the side table.

"Time bomb, Doctor?" Palmer asked, the tone of his voice being evidence of his sudden interest. Jimmy Palmer had learned early enough that although the older doctor talked a lot, his stories were never boring and always had something interesting about them. Palmer knew that despite having never been there, he learned something from each and every one of them.

Dr. Mallard took a pair of tweezers and carefully removed something from the dead man's finger, placing it in the container he had placed within reach. While closing the lid of the container, he continued, "Yes, time bomb. The body we found was that of a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, and he'd been choked to death. His body was left in the woods, and somehow he'd been lying there with his mouth open when a swarm of bees searching for a new home found what they were looking for..."

"Oh, my..." Jimmy said, anticipating the story with his imagination.

"Oh, my, indeed," Ducky agreed, briefly looking up to glance at his assistant. "Do you know how long bees live?"

Palmer shook his head, he had no idea but he was confident he was about to find out.

"Six weeks," Mallard continued while scribbling something on the container. Placing it on the table, he mumbled, "Abigail should take a look at that."

"That's not very long," Palmer said, trying to get the doctor back on track with his story.

"No, it is not," Ducky replied. "But it is long enough to start a whole new population. Anyway, they must have been in the poor man's lungs for quite a while, so when I opened him up..." Straightening his shoulders, Mallard shook his head at the memory. "When bees feel threatened, they sting. If one stings, the others smell that and instinctively join in. I could get out of reach by quickly hiding under the autopsy table, but Mister Roberts, who was otherwise occupied..."

"Ouch," commented Palmer, trying not to think about what had happened.

"Let's just say I had to go and find myself another assistant for a couple of weeks," Dr. Mallard summarized. Upon hearing the doors to autopsy slide open he took the container and handed it over to Jimmy. "Take this to Abby, please, Mister Palmer."

As the younger man walked away, the medical examiner turned around. "Jethro. You really should have come to see me sooner, as I need to change that bandage around your shoulder." He looked up, then spotting the tall Air Force colonel. "Oh, I didn't know we had a visitor." Walking over to the sink, Mallard started scrubbing his hands.

"Doctor Mallard, meet Colonel O'Neill," Gibbs introduced the men, "Colonel O'Neill, this is Dr. Mallard, our senior medical examiner."

After drying off his hands, Ducky proffered his hand. "Colonel O'Neill, how very nice to meet you."

O'Neill stepped forward and shook the other man's hand. "Dr. Mallard."

"Oh, please," the medical examiner waved with his hand, "call me Ducky. Everybody else does."

"Docky?" O'Neill repeated, frowning in surprise.

"Ducky! Mallard, French for duck?" Mallard explained impatiently.

"Ah," the Air Force colonel smiled. "Cool!"

"Cool?" Now it was Ducky's time to frown as he looked into the taller man's dark brown eyes. "It is in fact the first time somebody called that name cool. But what brings you down here to autopsy?"

"The colonel is here to see Lieutenant Makepeace's body, Duck," Gibbs said.

"Ah," Mallard nodded then turned to head over to the coolers. "He's in here."

The other men followed him, positioning themselves at the other side of the drawer as the medical examiner opened it up. "Poor man," Ducky exclaimed as he pulled the blanket down.

Colonel O'Neill took in the marks on the body lying in front of him. Having lived through some brutal torture sessions himself and having seen more than he would have wished for, he had a fair idea of what the younger brother of Robert Makepeace must have gone through.

Gibbs said nothing, but took in the grim expression on the other man's face and wondered what was going through the colonel's mind.

"Broken and bruised fingers, dislocated elbow, shoulder, broken ribs, damaged kidneys, concussion or worse from several hard blows to the head," Ducky summarized, knowing when more details were needed the other men would ask for them.

"They got what they wanted from him," Jack O'Neill said, his voice betraying the anger he was trying hard to conceal.

Gibbs just nodded. It didn't really surprise him that the colonel came to the same conclusion he had a day earlier.

"He should rest in peace," Mallard said to no one in particular. He slowly slid the table back inside the cooler and closed the door before looking up at both men. "You'll find whoever did this." It wasn't a question, but a firm statement. "Then he can rest in peace."

Gibbs turned around, looking at the dead man still out there on the table. "Anything on that man, Duck?"

O'Neill turned around as well and pulled a face as he looked at the body, the chest sliced open, revealing the inside. "That the man who shot you?" he asked.

"Yes," nodded Gibbs, glancing at the colonel. "You know him?"

Colonel O'Neill tried to ignore the open torso and studied the facial features. He shook his head, "Nope."

"Your first bullet hit him straight in the heart, Jethro," Ducky said, indicating with his hand at the open chest. "Death came almost instantly. The second bullet punctured his left lung."

"You've got a good aim," Colonel O'Neill concluded, looking at the special agent with admiration.

"Fortunately, better than our friend here on the table," Ducky agreed. "I did find something, though."

"What did you find, Ducky?" Gibbs asked, as always impatient.

"This man has undergone a nephrectomy. Which means, he had one kidney removed. According to the surgical incision, I estimate he had his kidney removed 6 or 7 years ago. It might help you identify him, as there should be records of procedures like that."

"Why would he have his kidney removed?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"A variety of reasons, I'm afraid," Ducky replied. "He could have been suffering from renal cell carcinoma. It is the most common form of kidney cancer in adults. Surgery is the common treatment, sometimes followed by radiation therapy or chemotherapy. This man however shows no signs of chemo treatment."

Looking up, Ducky continued. "He could also have suffered from a non-functional kidney, which would have resulted in high blood pressure. Or a congenitally small kidney."

"A small kidney? Why would they have to remove a small kidney?" Colonel O'Neill asked.

"If a kidney is too small, it would swell in order to cope, pressing on nerves causing pain in unrelated areas such as the back or testicles," Ducky explained.

O'Neill pulled a face. "Ouch."

"Indeed," Dr. Mallard agreed with a smile. "Then there's also the possibility of blunt force trauma, some kind of disease followed by a severe infection, or maybe this man just has been a kidney donor."

"Anything else?" Gibbs demanded.

"Yes, I've pulled something out of the man's left index finger," Ducky took the hand, pointing at the area, "Palmer has just taken it to Abby. I'm sure she will figure out what it is."

Gibbs turned, ready to leave and head straight down to the lab.

"Not so fast, Jethro," Ducky called after him, his voice stern. "Your bandages?"

Gibbs sighed. "It's okay, Duck, really," he protested, although he already knew he wouldn't get away with it.

"No, it's not." Dr. Mallard had already moved over toward an empty and clean autopsy table and patted it. "Sit down. This will not take very long."

Gibbs glanced at his visitor, silently sending an apology for the delay.

O'Neill grinned and turned to look at the medical examiner, who was rinsing his hands with a sterile solution. "Are you in any way related to Janet Fraiser?" he asked with a glint of humor in his voice.

Seriously considering the question, Ducky looked puzzled. "Janet Fraiser? No, not that I know of. Why?" He stepped closer to Gibbs who had reluctantly sat down on the table. The ME started loosening the straps of the sling.

Shrugging, the colonel replied, "You remind me of her."

"Who is she?" Gibbs wanted to know, grimacing as his arm came free from the sling and the movement sent a wave of pain through his shoulder.

"She's our Chief Medical Officer," O'Neill answered. "And she might be small, but she's just as determined as Ducky here."

Meanwhile, Ducky had unwrapped the bandages from Gibbs' shoulder and was gently prodding around the exit wound on Gibbs' back. "Have you been taking your medication?" he asked, as he frowned in concern.

"Yes, I have," Gibbs confirmed as he tried to hide the discomfort Ducky's fingers were causing him.

O'Neill, after taking a look at the doctor's face, stepped closer to take a look. "It's not infected yet," he said as he studied the exit wound on the special agent's back, "but without the proper care, it will be, very soon."

"Yes," Ducky firmly stated. He took a bottle of disinfectant. "Do you have medical training?"

"Nope," the Air Force colonel replied. "Seen enough to know."

"Hmm," Mallard mumbled as he drained a clean cloth with the disinfectant. "I'm going to have to clean this thoroughly, Jethro. I'll try to be as gentle as possible, but it is going to hurt." Knowing his friend didn't like to waste time anticipating, he immediately started the job of cleaning the wound. Jethro flinched under his touch, but remained quiet, just as Ducky knew he would.

Once he was done cleaning the wound on Gibbs' back, he placed a comforting hand on the man's uninjured shoulder. "That should do it," he said softly. "Now, let's see the other side."

Stepping around the autopsy table, Mallard approached Gibbs, quickly throwing a glance at the special agent's face to determine how he was doing. The medical examiner noted that Gibbs was a bit paler than normal and also saw drops of sweat on his brow, but Jethro gave him a curt nod, thereby giving Ducky permission to continue.

Again, Ducky's fingers prodded and poked, as he studied the entry wound on Jethro's shoulder. "Fortunately, this side looks better," he informed the special agent. "Let's clean this too then put some fresh bandages on." He already started dabbing and cleaning. When he was done, he wrapped the wounds in gauze and bandages and re-applied the immobilizer.

Giving Gibbs a moment to regain his composure, Ducky headed for the cabinet, washed his hands and took out a bottle of pills. "I want you to take these, Jethro. They're a bit stronger than the ones you have. And I suggest you get one of the kids to drive you home. Your working day ends right here."

"Duck," Gibbs started in protest, despite knowing better.

"No objections, Jethro," Ducky interrupted him firmly. "Unless you want to end up in that hospital bed you were so eager to leave yesterday morning. You need to rest and then we might get through this without further complications."

"I can drive you," Colonel O'Neill offered. "With the time difference, I could use some sleep as well and I can drive you back here in the morning."

Dr. Mallard gave an approving nod at O'Neill. "That way you could also keep an eye on him." He handed the medication he'd taken out of the cabinet to the colonel. "Make sure he takes these and call me if there's any indication of trouble."

Gibbs, clearly outnumbered, sighed in resignation and hopped off the table.

---oo---oo---

_**Author's notes: Woohoo, this was my longest chapter so far. Liked it? Let me know! Abby meets O'Neill in the next chapter, folks...**_


	14. Getting to know eachother

**GIBBS' RESIDENCE, SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON**

Gibbs and O'Neill were seated in Gibbs' living room, Gibbs with a glass of juice -O'Neill wouldn't let him have anything with alcohol due to his medication- stretched out on the couch while O'Neill, a beer in his hand, was leaning back in the black leather chair.

They'd picked up some groceries on their way home, a pizza for dinner, some of O'Neill's favorite brand of beer and some other goodies Gibbs knew were needed with a guest around the house.

They'd talked about lots of things on their way home, and had quickly switched to first name basis. Upon coming home, O'Neill had simply ordered Gibbs to sit down and rest and had shown he could easily adapt to his surroundings as he found his way through Gibbs' house, heating up the pizza in the kitchen and fixing drinks for the both of them.

Flipping through the channels, they'd found nothing of interest and were now merely glancing at an old hockey game with the Colorado Avalanche playing the Montreal Canadians.

Following the line of their conversation earlier in the sedan, O'Neill looked over the beer bottle, taking in the features of the other man. "So you've been with NCIS for how long?"

"About twelve years," replied Gibbs, "as a civilian that is."

"You were assigned there before?" O'Neill wondered.

"Yeah, for a while," Gibbs nodded. "In the late eighties, it was still NIS back then. I was a gunnery sergeant, stationed at several bases, fulfilling several tasks. Couldn't find what I was looking for, and in my search for what I really wanted, I also spent some time at NIS. That was how I figured out what I wanted with my life."

"Why criminal investigation?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Guess people killing Marines just piss me off. "

O'Neill looked at him in understanding, "And somebody has to speak for the dead."

"And that," Gibbs agreed. "Want to clear their names if needed... their families deserve some closure."

"You're good at your job." It was much more of a statement than a question. "And you've got a pretty good team out there, as far as I can tell."

Gibbs glanced at the other man, knowing the Air Force colonel had enough experience to tell. "They're good. Expect them to be, if they want to stay on my team," he responded.

The colonel sipped from his beer, staring at the wall. Considering his next question, he sipped some more, then turned his head to again look at the special agent. "Do they know?"

Gibbs frowned in surprise. "Do they know what?"

"About your wife and daughter?"

If NCIS could do background checks, so could the Air Force, Gibbs silently berated himself. Shaking his head shortly, he replied, "No. Yours?"

O'Neill, his eyes dark as he was again staring at the wall without really looking, briefly nodded, then sipped some more beer. "Daniel... he was there when the Air Force reinstated me and sent me out on a suicide mission. He..." the colonel fell silent for a while before continuing. "He kinda stopped me."

Gibbs glanced at the other man. That O'Neill had suffered from depression had been obvious in Kate's research, but that the Air Force had actually tried to take advantage of it hadn't been. It made him furious, especially since he'd been in a similar situation after Shannon and Kelly's death. The Marine Corps however hadn't tried to benefit from his state of mind. "The others of your team?"

"They found out," O'Neill said shortly, thinking of the other Charlie that had been responsible for the revelation to his team. He couldn't possibly explain that to the former gunnery sergeant, though. "Can't hide anything from Carter anyway. She's too smart for that."

"Carter... is that the blond woman we saw with General Hammond?"

"Probably," O'Neill nodded. "If there's a technical problem, call Carter and she'll fix it. Which is good, 'cause I know squat when it comes to that."

Gibbs grinned. "Good to have her around then. I'm not big on modern technology either."

"So... how do you cope? Your team doesn't know, so you can't talk to them..." O'Neill wondered, looking intently at the special agent.

"Work," Gibbs replied shortly.

"And when work is done? Sit here and drink bourbon?" O'Neill asked, having seen the bottles in the kitchen.

Gibbs gave him a faint smile, then placed his glass on the coffee table. Getting up, he motioned. "Come. I'll show you."

With a hint of surprise etched on his face, O'Neill also got up, carried his beer with him and followed the other man down the stairs. What he saw there almost made his mouth fall wide open. "You're building a**_ boat_**?"

"Uh-huh." Gibbs walked over to his beloved boat and gently ran a hand over the ribs.

With admiration, Jack O'Neill's eyes darted from the boat's front side to the rear, then to the hand-tools on the work-bench. "Cool!" he stated, stepping closer. Following Gibbs' example, he ran his hand over the ribs. Finding a rough spot, he picked up some sandpaper and asked, "May I?"

Gibbs nodded and watched in satisfaction how the Colonel started sanding. The man knew what he was doing, he couldn't have done better himself. If only his arm wasn't bothering him, or he would have joined in. "So, what do you do, when you're not working?" he wondered.

"Sit on my roof," O'Neill replied without stopping sanding. "Got a telescope. Watch the stars and drink a beer or two..."

The image of himself falling asleep under his boat popped into his head. Gibbs wanted to know, so he asked, "You sleep on the roof as well?"

"Sometimes," O'Neill answered with a brief nod. "Like to fish as well... got a cabin at the lake. It's quiet out there."

"Sounds good." Gibbs knew however that fishing was not his thing. He preferred to actually do something. Sitting still doing nothing would soon drive him nuts.

"Yep. Gotta consider building a boat, though," O'Neill smiled. "It's actually relaxing."

"That it certainly is," Gibbs agreed.

---oo---oo---

**FORENSIC LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Abby Sciuto had come to work early in the morning. The Goth was wearing a short black skirt with a red hatch pattern. Her tights were black as well, as were her shoes. A skull, embroidered in white, decorated the back of her tights, on her left calf. It was a perfect match with her black tee, also decorated with a skull-print and still visible from underneath her white lab-coat.

She wasn't wearing much jewelry today, just one of her favorite Celtic necklaces and some leather bracelets with shiny metal squares over her fingerless, leather gloves. Her hair tucked away in the usual two ponytails softened the hard look of her outfit.

Yesterday, she'd been working all afternoon on the evidence. First, there was the identity of their mysterious shooter, which she was desperate to discover, and so far, she hadn't been able to. Second, Jimmy Palmer had brought her a piece of material Ducky had pulled from their John Doe's index finger. She hoped it would give them a clue about his whereabouts before he came to the warehouse to shoot Gibbs.

Talking sweetly to her machines as she turned them on and set them to work, Abby walked over to her stereo and pressed the play button. Whistling with the tune of heavy metal coming from the speakers she walked over to her computer. "Give me something I can use today, all right?" she pleaded as she followed the program's listing on the screen. "We need something to keep Gibbs happy and if Gibbs is happy, so am I, so you better find something, or else!"

On another screen, a program was running another search through a database with information about specific types of guns. It was her umpteenth search query as all the previous searches had come up empty. She watched as it went. "Come on... You can do it!"

It was sometimes later that morning, when one computer beeped, drawing Abby's attention. A window popped up, revealing some detailed information. Abby rushed over, glanced at it and started jumping up and down. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Abruptly, she stopped and swung her head to look over her shoulder. "I know you're there, Gibbs," she started, fully expecting him to show up.

Nobody was there. She frowned then stepped closer to look at her results. "It's something," she muttered, pleased that she now at least had a lead from the gun. Leaving the relevant info on the screen, she switched to another computer, typed in a cross-reference-search and gave it a curt nod. "Go, baby. Go."

She grabbed Bert, her stuffed rhino and gave it a quick squeeze. It made a farting sound. "We're getting something, Bert. I can feel it," she mumbled quietly.

When her other computer gave her the results on the piece of material Jimmy had brought her, she placed Bert on the desk and started jumping up and down again. "Yes!"

"Happy, Abs?" A familiar voice coming from behind her made her jump again, this time from surprise.

"Gibbs!" she cried out. "How do you do that? I didn't hear you come in. You always come in when I discover something, but you still took me by surprise..."

She turned around, saw Gibbs with a boyish grin on his face and vaguely registered the Caf-Pow in his hand but her eyes were immediately drawn to the man standing behind Gibbs. Taller than Gibbs, his hair a shiny shade of silver, just how she liked it, and boy, was he good-looking. "Wow," she commented with a wide smile. "I didn't know you had a brother, Gibbs."

Colonel O'Neill looked at her, examining her unusual outfit from top to toe.

"Abs..." Gibbs said with a slight shake of the head. "This is not my brother. This is Colonel O'Neill from the Air Force. He's here for Lieutenant Makepeace's case. Jack, this is Abby Sciuto, our forensic analyst."

Abby took the two ends of her short skirt, spread them out a little and curtsied gracefully. "Hi, Colonel O'Neill from the Air Force."

"Abby," Colonel O'Neill greeted her, giving her a look that made her heart melt. "You got some weird kind of death wish?" The man wavered with one hand, indicating her outfit.

Looking down, then back up, Abby laughed. "If you want to call it that." She turned to take the Caf-Pow from Gibbs' hand. "Oh, thanks, Gibbs. I hadn't had any yet this morning. Are you okay?" All business, she studied his features, remembering how Ducky had sent him home early the day before. "You look rested. Don't overdo things, or Ducky is going to take you back to Bethesda. He said so himself yesterday. Are you okay?"

"Fine, Abs," Gibbs cut her short. "What did you find?"

"Oh, yes," raising her finger as if to get attention, she swiftly turned on her heels and walked over to one of her screens. "The gun. Remember, no prints, nothing to identify the shooter... that gun?"

Gibbs nodded, stepping closer with a hopeful expression. O'Neill remained where he was, quietly observing.

"Like I said, it's just a typical Glock. A common handgun among law enforcement agencies and military organizations. It's a Glock 22, with a .40 S&W cartridge," she briefly looked over her shoulder at their visitor, determining if he was listening.

"There were no prints, not on the outside, not on the cartridge, not inside the chamber. Not even on the bullets. Our shooter was very careful," she sighed, as it still frustrated her that she hadn't been able to identify the man yet. "But," she continued, her voice betraying her excitement. "He forgot one thing."

Gibbs, always listening intently when Abby was giving her report, stepped closer, knowing she was going to reveal something.

Straightening her back, Abby turned around and looked at both men with a satisfied smile. "We all know that Glocks are polymer-framed, right?" After the affirmative nods she received, Abby continued. "But... I suddenly remembered that there's also a well-known malfunction reported about the gun. In some cases, the cartridge cage ruptured after the trigger was pulled, causing the gun to explode. It has actually happened quite a few times, especially amongst police departments."

"The cause, Abs?"

"An overloaded chamber... but mostly the use of unjacketed bullets."

"And this helps us how?" Colonel O'Neill, getting impatient, wanted to know.

Abby looked at him. "If you can't identify the shooter, maybe you can find him through the bullets he bought for his gun." She pressed the print-button on the keyboard.

"You got something?" Gibbs asked as per usual urging her to get to the point.

"Our shooter was aware of the problem with the Glock and used a particular kind of jacketed ammunition." Abby snatched a piece of paper out of the printer. She was about to slam it against Gibbs' chest, but the sight of the sling made her stop just in time. "Addresses of the five companies selling those bullets in the area."

Gibbs took the paper from her outstretched hand and pressed a kiss on her head. "That's good work, Abs." He was already turning, ready to leave and give the list to McGee for further research.

"Gibbs! Wait, wait, wait!" Abby called out, one arm raised and a finger in the air as if in school, waiting for permission to speak. "That's not all..."

He stopped, turned and looked at her, demanding.

"Ducky pulled a piece of wood out of the shooter's finger?" she reminded him. "It is wood, and a very particular kind as well," glancing at his face she knew now was not the time to stretch her report as Gibbs was eager to leave. She quickly typed in some commands and a map of the area appeared on the big screen.

Walking over, she pointed with her hand at an area. "The splinter was from an oak tree that has been infested by the Gypsy moth. The oak is the dominant tree species in Shenandoah National Park, but has been seriously cut back by infestations of the moth.... Whatever our John Doe was doing before he came to the warehouse to shoot you," she glanced at Gibbs, "he was doing something, somewhere in THIS area."

Gibbs needed only one look at the map before he tilted his head, giving her one of his famous smiles. "Abby... you're the best."

Looking very pleased with herself, Abby gloated, "I know."

---oo---oo---


	15. So who was the shooter?

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Stepping out of the elevator Gibbs shook his head at the sight of his senior field agent munching on another bar of chocolate. "Are you in any way related to that old lady, DiNozzo?"

Tony quickly swallowed his last bite and threw the rest of the bar in the drawer of his desk. "No, boss," he responded as he sat up straight. Spotting the piece of paper in Gibbs' hand, he asked, "You got something, boss?"

"Abby did," Gibbs said, "our John Doe bought the bullets for his Glock at one of these stores." He gave the list to McGee. "Get me his name, McGee."

Tim gave a curt nod. "I'm on it, boss." Taking the list, he read the names of the stores and started making phone calls.

"Kate, Shenandoah National Park." Gibbs pointed at the big screen. "Give me a map."

Frowning, Kate quickly ran her fingers over the keyboard, looking for the desired information and seconds later, the map of the park appeared. "What's in the park, Gibbs?"

"Our John Doe was, Kate. Before he came to the warehouse."

"It's a big park, boss," DiNozzo commented, studying the map in front of him.

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snapped. It earned him a grin from O'Neill.

"But," DiNozzo quickly continued. "We need to narrow it down. Kate," he turned to look at his female colleague, "Look for a list of private properties bordering the park."

Kate was already working on it. A list of properties appeared on the screen. "That's a lot, Gibbs. I count..." she glanced at her screen, "at least 165 properties are located near the park and since we don't know what, or rather who, we are looking for, it's going to be hard to find something."

"Anything related to Lieutenant Makepeace?" DiNozzo demanded.

Kate shook her head. "Not at first sight. I'll have to run a cross reference to friends and relatives."

"Can we make a secure call from here?" Colonel O'Neill spoke up for the first time.

Gibbs turned to look at him. "What are you thinking?"

O'Neill shrugged. "I have an idea and I need to talk to Carter for that. She might get you the location you're looking for."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered. "Go to Shenandoah National Park and start looking around. We'll call if we got directions."

DiNozzo just nodded as he took the car keys from the drawer and got up.

"Kate, go with him," Gibbs said, then looked back at O'Neill. "Back to Abby. She'll make that call. Let's go."

---oo---oo---

**FORENSIC LAB, NSIC HEADQUARTERS**

"Wow, Gibbs, I haven't even finished my Caf-Pow yet," Abby said as the two men entered her lab again. She flashed O'Neill a smile, not even trying to hide that she couldn't keep her eyes off him.

O'Neill, in return, looked at her with a grin on his face. He normally didn't like scientists, but she was a welcome exception. He loved her outfit, she was smart and witty at the same time. He made a mental note to call her in case Urgo came back to annoy the hell out of him. He noticed she'd taken off her gloves, but had put her bracelets back on. He figured the gloves, even if they were fingerless, were too much of a nuisance in the lab.

"We need to make a secure call to Cheyenne Mountain, Abs," Gibbs said.

All business, Abby started the needed session. "You got it, oh mighty one. What's the number?"

Colonel O'Neill smirked at her reply then told her the number and watched as she punched it in. A series of security questions came, O'Neill curtly replying to them when finally a human voice was heard. "Colonel O'Neill! Morning, Sir, how are you?"

"Fine, Sergeant," O'Neill replied. "How's Susan? Nothing happened yet?"

"No, Sir," the younger man replied. "Doctor said to be patient. He thinks the baby will stay where it is for at least another week."

"Babies come at their own time, Sergeant. Give Susan my best wishes. Can you patch me through to Major Carter's lab?"

"Yes, Sir," the Sergeant said. "There you go."

"Thanks, Sergeant," O'Neill responded. The monitor in front of them flickered and then showed Carter, sitting behind her desk. "Sir," she greeted him with a surprised frown. "How did you set up a connection like this?"

The Colonel shrugged. "You know me and computers, Carter... It was Abby over here. Don't worry, she looks scarier than she really is."

Abby smiled at that comment, then raised a hand and waved. "Hi, there."

"Hi, Abby," Major Carter greeted the Goth, frowning first before smiling back. "I'm Major Samantha Carter. And I saw you before, Special Agent Gibbs, when you spoke to the General," she continued, looking at Gibbs.

Gibbs just nodded, not feeling the need to add something to the conversation.

"Carter, I need you to check if the NID has a safe-house near Shenandoah National Park," O'Neill ordered.

"All right, hang on," Carter responded and started working on her computer. They all saw some data scrolling over her screen, although the text itself couldn't be read. Only a little while later, the text stopped scrolling and Carter pointed at a line. "Yes, here it is. Lot 123."

"Got an address?" Gibbs asked, already snapping his cell open, punching in the speed dial to Tony.

"75, Delmonte Rd. It's located near the north entrance of the park," Carter told him.

"Tony, head for the north entrance to the park and go to 75 Delmonte Rd. Call if you run into any trouble." That said, Gibbs didn't even wait for an answer and shut off the phone.

He looked at O'Neill. "Can Major Carter run a photo through a database we don't have access to? Or prints?"

"Carter?" O'Neill asked. "Abby here will send you a picture of a dead man. We can't id him here. See what you can do?"

"You think he's NID, Sir?" Carter asked, waiting for the transfer of the file Abby had just sent her.

"It wouldn't surprise me, no," O'Neill replied.

"Receiving the file now. Just a second, Sir," Carter opened the data and started a search. Only five minutes later, the monitor beeped. "Wait a minute, here he is.... He's in some medical records regarding a kidney removal. Cross-checking now.... Well, looks you're right, Colonel. His name is Michael Badelt. He's a civilian, speaks several languages including Russian and Arabic... he's assigned to NID as an interrogator under a Colonel Simmons."

"Colonel Simmons? Haven't heard of him," O'Neill commented with a frown. "Get me more about him, Carter. I want to know if he's somehow involved in the rogue group Makepeace was a part of. And see what you can find out about Badelt."

"I'm on it, Sir," Carter replied.

"Can you keep Abby informed?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Yes, of course," Carter nodded. "We'll keep the line open."

"Thanks, Carter. And thank you, Abby," O'Neill said.

"You're very welcome, Sir," she replied, the 'Sir' coming out sharp as she gave the colonel a quick salute.

"Wrong hand, Abs," Gibbs, shaking his head, wondered whether she just forgot or actually did it on purpose. He turned, ready to walk out of the lab, fully expecting O'Neill to follow him as McGee came rushing through the door.

"Boss," excited and a little out of breath, McGee started," The manager of the second shop on the list you gave me recognized the photo of our shooter. His name is..."

"Michael Badelt," Gibbs cut him short without looking at the younger man as he walked past him. "We already know, McGee!"

Stunned, McGee watched them go, then turned around to look at Abby.

She gave him a sweet smile. "Don't you just hate it when he does that, McGee?"

---oo---oo---


	16. An interrogation

_**Author's notes**: thanks to everybody who has been reviewing... you guys feed my pen! And of course, thanks to Kate and Lynette for beta-ing the chapters! Enjoy the next part..._

_PS. the streets / roads I used for the location of the safe house are made up by me, I doubt they are really there!_

**SOMEWHERE NEAR THE NORTH ENTRANCE OF SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK**

"That must be it," Kate said, pointing at a wooden cabin hidden behind some trees.

DiNozzo nodded, agreeing with her. They had entered the park through the north entrance and were driving on Delmonte Rd. He drove on, not wanting to draw attention to them and found a parking lot at a small lake site. "Let's go," he said, getting out of the car.

They hiked back to the cabin and approached it from one side. There was no movement around the house, nor an indication that anybody was inside. Yet, the agents were careful and, weapons drawn, they peeked through the backdoor, the kitchen window and a side window before knocking on the front door.

Nobody answered.

"You got a hairpin, Kate?" Tony asked, looking at the lock.

"You've got to be kidding, Tony," she sneered and headed back to the other side of the cabin. She'd spotted an open window and pointed it out to her partner as he came up behind her. "Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Maybe. But there's just something about the old fashion lock-picking entrance that sounds more appealing, Kate."

"Well, suit yourself, Tony," she almost laughed at the boyish look he threw at her. "But I don't wear hair pins and I'm going in that way." With that, she pushed the window further open, and silently climbed in.

DiNozzo couldn't resist looking at her while she climbed, then shrugged and followed her. Together they cleared the rooms, finding the whole cabin empty.

What they did find, however, was evidence that an interrogation had taken place inside the cabin, and given the instruments on the table, the chair that lay on its side on the floor and especially the blood stains on the wooden floor, they knew it hadn't been a friendly conversation. They'd found their primary crime scene.

---oo---oo---

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, ONE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOMS**

Former Marine Colonel Robert Makepeace shifted in his chair. He'd been brought to Washington, to NCIS, that morning and he'd been waiting in this room for over an hour without anybody telling him why.

He was afraid it had to do something with his brother, though, as Arti lived in this area. If only Arti was all right...

Makepeace drummed with his fingers on the table nervously, anxious as he was to find out what happened to his brother, then looked up as the door finally opened.

A middle aged man with grey hair and wearing a sling to support one arm entered the room, and, to Robert's surprise, he was being followed by Colonel Jack O'Neill.

Apparently, Jack hadn't known who had been waiting in the room, as he threw one look at Makepeace before turning to the other man, snapping in anger, "You brought HIM here?"

Although an angry O'Neill could raise the hairs on anybody's head, Makepeace noted that the other man wasn't intimidated at all. He merely looked at O'Neill, his face hiding every emotion.

"Jack..." Makepeace started in an attempt to calm his friend, or at least the man who he had considered to be one the last couple of years.

O'Neill didn't calm down at all. Furious, he stormed forward and around the table.

In shock, Makepeace didn't resist as he was grabbed by the shoulders and roughly dragged off the chair. O'Neill pinned him against the wall, brought his face close as he yelled, "You were supposed to protect him, you rat bastard!"

Looking into the dark eyes of O'Neill, Makepeace felt the faint hope he had that his brother was all right shatter. Why else would Jack be this furious?

"Jack," the other man had placed his good hand on O'Neill's arm. Makepeace noted the silent look of understanding he cast at Jack.

O'Neill, still looking hard at Makepeace, seemed unaware of the hand on his arm and kept his grip solid without backing down.

"Jack..." raising his voice, only a little, the other man tried again.

Against his expectations, Makepeace realized the other man had managed to break through Jack's outrage as O'Neill glared at him once more before slowly releasing him.

"Sit down," the other man ordered without looking at him.

Makepeace inhaled deeply, ran a hand over his sore shoulder then sat down, knowing the order had been directed at him.

"I'm Special Agent Gibbs," the other man introduced himself as he took the seat opposite to Makepeace.

Robert looked at Gibbs, then turned to look at O'Neill, who had remained standing. "It's Arti, isn't it?" he asked.

O'Neill snatched another chair, swung it around and sat on it, one leg on each side and his arms leaning on the backrest. He didn't say a word but just glared at Makepeace.

"Arti's your brother?" Gibbs asked.

Makepeace nodded. "Is he..." his voice was merely a whisper.

"Dead?" Gibbs filled in, looking up briefly before continuing, "Yeah."

The news still hit him hard. Robert closed his eyes in despair, unable to face O'Neill and his anger. He remained silent for a while before he was finally able to ask, "What happened?"

"He was tortured and killed," Gibbs informed him without mercy.

Makepeace raised his head and opened his eyes. "What? Why?"

"You tell us, you little..." O'Neill snapped back at him, swallowing the rest of whatever he was going to say. Hand balled to a tight fist, Jack hit the table to vent some of the anger. "You shouldn't have involved him, Robert. You should have left him out of it."

As if he didn't know that already. He'd been feeling guilty from the moment he'd made the choice to turn to his brother, calculating the risks, but never, ever having expected it to come this far. "Jack..." he started, his voice barely audible.

"Don't 'Jack' me, Robert," O'Neill said with a deadly threatening voice. "Explain why your brother is lying in the morgue while you are sitting here, alive and well. Explain why he was tortured. Huh? What were they looking for, Robert?"

Makepeace sighed. This was going to be difficult. He knew there was no way he could keep lying, Jack was too involved and would know instantly. Looking from Jack to Special Agent Gibbs, he wondered how he could explain things without revealing classified information. He glanced at the glass window behind Gibbs' back. "Can I talk to you in private, Jack?"

"Your brother was a Marine. Therefore it is up to NCIS to catch his killer," Gibbs replied before Jack could.

"But..." Robert started.

O'Neill understood his reluctance. "Jethro, is there a way we can keep this off the record?"

Without turning around Gibbs raised his hand, snapped his fingers and pointed sharply at the door. "You want privacy, you got it."

Makepeace stared at Gibbs, then glanced at Jack and frowned. "How do I know this conversation isn't recorded?"

Gibbs looked hard at him. "Because I say so."

Looking back at O'Neill, Makepeace saw the faint nod he got from his former colleague and knew he had to start talking. "During my time as commander of SG3 I've discovered some things..." he started, carefully picking his words. "Found out about some foul play, about information being leaked out of the SGC... I decided to dig a bit further, and the more I discovered, the more I realized how dangerous that information was."

Both Gibbs and O'Neill were watching him intently, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"I found out about the rogue group within NID, about their missions. Went to Area 51 a couple of times, dug in deeper and deeper and finally found it all led to a mutual friend of ours, Jack."

O'Neill raised his brows but remained silent.

"Kinsey," Robert said.

"Kinsey? That ugly piece of... Always knew he was involved somehow," Jack growled.

"By the time I got that far, I realized I got in too deep. They started threatening me, Jack. And I don't think I have to tell you they don't play things by the book."

"Why didn't you come to me? Or talk to Hammond?" Jack wanted to know.

"Like I said, Jack," Robert explained. "They don't play fair. When they realized I wasn't impressed by their threats, they started using different material. I got pictures. Pictures of my team, at their homes, with their kids. The bastards even sent me pictures of Tessa and Kayla, Jack."

His expression grim, O'Neill balled his hand to a fist again.

"Who are Tessa and Kayla?" Gibbs interrupted them.

"General Hammond's grandchildren," Jack replied shortly. "What did they want, Robert?"

"To take over the SGC. And for that they need to get rid of Hammond. And you, too, Jack," Robert replied.

"I know what they want in the greater scheme of things, Robert," O'Neill answered a little annoyed. "What did they want from YOU?"

"They wanted to make sure I didn't go anywhere with the information I'd collected, especially the material connecting the Senator to the rogue group. They... " Robert paused momentarily, shivering at the memory, "convinced me I had to join their operation."

"Why not kill you?" Gibbs asked.

"I'd made it perfectly clear I had a backup plan for that, Special Agent Gibbs," Makepeace replied.

"That's where Arthur got involved, isn't it?" Jack asked.

Ducking his head, Makepeace nodded.

"You should have come to me," O'Neill snapped, anger again evident in his voice.

"And then what, Jack?" Makepeace replied, also raising his voice as he got angry himself. "You think you can stand up against these people, Jack? You're not invincible, you know. They've tried to get rid of you before, and don't think they'd stop if they thought you knew too much."

"Oh, phu--lease," O'Neill said, stretching out the last word. "They all want to poke me full of holes...."

"There are more ways to get to you. They'd go after Carter, Jack. Or Daniel. God... I know for sure they would. I couldn't risk their lives. And you are too important to the SGC. This was the best solution, Jack."

"So you are just going to take the fall for this?" O'Neill asked.

"As long as Hammond is still in charge, Jack, it's worth it. Don't you think?"

"Your brother would disagree," Gibbs commented.

They fell silent for a while.

"What did Arti know, Robert?" O'Neill asked.

"Nothing, Jack. I swear." Robert looked at ONeill, pleading the other man to believe him. "I gave him a package, asked him to hide it real well and send it to you if anything should ever happen to me."

"They found out," Gibbs stated. "And tortured him long enough for him to reveal the hiding place."

"Oh, God," Makepeace let his head rest in his hands. "You think they got it?"

"Your brother is dead, Robert. Go figure," O'Neill answered sharply. "Without that information, there's nothing I can do for you. You still go to jail. And now they have no reason to keep you alive and I can't protect you."

"That's all right, Jack. Just get whoever killed Arti. Please?" He couldn't care less what happened to him, but he didn't want to spend the rest of his life --long or short-- in jail knowing the killer of his brother walked.

"Special Agent Gibbs here already did, Robert," O'Neill replied as he got up ready to leave the room.

Makepeace looked Gibbs in the eye. "Thank you," he whispered.

---oo---oo---


	17. Wrapping up the case

**GIBBS' RESIDENCE, SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON**

Colonel Jack O'Neill was working on the boat while Jethro Gibbs, his arm throbbing, was leaning against the workbench. For NCIS, the case was solved. With the evidence Kate and Tony had found at the safe house and Abby's lab results, Badelt was without doubt the one responsible for torturing and killing Lieutenant Arthur Makepeace.

They'd been wondering why Badelt had taken the young lieutenant from the safe house to Princeton Corner where they'd found the body, but that mystery was solved after talking to the lieutenant's brother. Robert Makepeace had told them his brother used a small warehouse there as storage and probably, in a final attempt to stall for time and hope for a way out, had persuaded his attacker that the information he was looking for was hidden there.

At what point he'd finally revealed the real location of the package was unknown, although it was not crucial to the case. Badelt had not been working alone either, Gibbs realized that, but it was technically not his problem. He had his killer and he couldn't really build a case against an unknown accomplice who had taken something from the young lieutenant's house. Especially with no record of the interrogation of Colonel Makepeace.

Jethro also knew Jack wanted him to close the case right here. This way, none of the classified information had to be revealed, no questions asked that couldn't be answered. All he had to do was write his report, make sure he sounded convincing regarding Badelt's motive and tactically leave bits out that would only raise questions. It wouldn't really be a problem.

It wasn't going to answer his own questions, though. The whole case had left him wondering what could be so important in that mountain for a rogue group to try to get control. What could be worth killing, threatening, torturing and blackmailing?

It was the feeling of unfinished business that bothered him as well. Catching one of the bad guys never was enough for him, he wanted to get to the truth and catch every single dirt-bag out there and he knew all too well he didn't have them all. He probably just had a side-player in this game. The ones pulling the strings? They were well covered, he'd never get them.

He just wondered what Jack would do next. For NCIS, this was over. For Colonel O'Neill it was not. Of that he was sure. Apparently, Jack was doing a pretty good job of standing up to those people. Which left him wondering if there was a way he could help. Although that in itself would raise questions... so he probably couldn't, and shouldn't.

Also the question of what was going to happen to Colonel Makepeace kept him busy. Somehow, the lieutenant's brother didn't seem like a dirtbag; obviously he was a sacrifice, by his own choice, to keep General Hammond in command and who knew what else.

Lost in his thoughts, Gibbs hadn't noticed the stares O'Neill threw him from under the ribs of his boat.

Breaking the silence, O'Neill spoke up. "You okay?"

Gibbs tilted his head, and saw the other man had put the sandpaper down. He gave a short nod. "Just wondering what's next."

"Nothing. Young Makepeace got killed, you caught the man responsible, case closed."

Jethro rolled his eyes. "I got that part. His brother?"

"He's going to Leavenworth," Jack responded. "Hopefully they'll let him live."

"Does he belong there?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing I can do about it," O'Neill answered, then paused briefly, his dark brown eyes searching Gibbs' gaze. "He should have come to me in the first place, damn -it. I could have..."

Gibbs watched how the other man vented his frustration by balling one hand into a fist and slamming it against one of the ribs of his boat.

"I'll get him out. Someday," the Air Force colonel said, his voice soft, but Gibbs heard it nevertheless and the determination he'd also heard in that voice made him believe it without a question.

"The others? Involved in this?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," Jack replied shortly.

Jethro gave him a look. He'd figured that part out by himself. He kept staring, waiting for a more satisfying answer.

"At least we know a little of what to expect. Where the danger lies. It'll keep us on our toes," Jack continued without really giving a straight forward answer.

"Hope whatever you guys are doing up there in that mountain is worth it," Gibbs commented after a moment of silence. He'd debated demanding more information, an explanation, anything but had given up, knowing deep down inside that it wasn't coming.

"Me too, Gunny," O'Neill replied. "Me too." He picked up the sandpaper and got back to work. After a while, he looked up. "Thanks, Jethro."

"You're welcome," Gibbs replied. "Beer?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Smiling, Gibbs got up and headed for the stairs to get up to his kitchen. A soft scraping sound coming from upstairs alerted him. He moved backwards, cursing inwardly as he couldn't reach for the drawer where his gun was hidden with his injured right arm.

From the corner of his eyes he noticed Jack kneeling. The Colonel already had a weapon in his hand.

Gibbs swung around, pulled on the drawer with his left hand. He wasn't fast enough.

Shots were fired, and something thumped against his shoulder. An electrical, painful shock surged through his veins, making him tremble all over as his knees gave out.

He registered flashes of gun shots from behind his boat. 'Hope he gets the bastard," Gibbs thought, referring to O'Neill. His muscles were spasming and he was unable to keep himself from falling. His head hit the workbench with a sickening thud. As his world faded to black, Gibbs wondered why the only color he registered was blue.

---oo---oo---

**TONY'S RESIDENCE, SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON**

Despite what he'd liked his colleague and partner Kate to believe, Tony DiNozzo had not been with any woman that night.

Instead, he'd spent the evening by himself, sulking over the fact that he hadn't been able to get a date.

Luckily, there was the little black box called television. Or in his case, a large black box, namely a flat plasma screen. Being a big fan of movies he'd bought it a year ago, along with one of those home cinema theater sets. Which meant, when he put on the DVD of Jurassic Park and turned up the volume, the dinosaurs were stamping all over his apartment and his neighbors would start banging on the walls in frustration.

That night, he'd put on one of his old time favorites, Top Gun. Just the opening scene with music from Harold Faltemeyer and Michael Jay was a fantastic experience with the stereo on 8 and he'd restarted it three times before actually letting it continue.

He'd been sitting on the edge of his couch when Maverick, played by Tom Cruise, was stuck in the past where he'd lost his RIO and friend Goose while in combat with a bunch of MiG-28's. He'd hollered when Maverick had regained his confidence and shot 5 MiG's. And he'd envied him when he was reunited with his girlfriend Charlie, played by Kelly McGillis.

The bowl of salty popcorn was long gone before that. After finishing his beer, Tony had gone to bed around midnight, pondering what story he'd give Kate in the morning about his so-called date that night.

TRIIIIIIIIINGGGGG.

An annoying noise woke him up around three in the morning. With a groan, he rolled over and wanted nothing but to go back to sleep.

TRIIIIIIIIINGGG.

Again, that noise. Suddenly realizing it was his phone ringing, Tony sat up straight. He reached over for the night stand and grabbed his cell, snapping it open as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it from the deep sleep he'd been in. "Yes?"

"DiNozzo, I need you to go to Gibbs' house stat," the voice from director Thomas Morrow was heard.

"What's up, sir?" Tony asked, wondering what could be wrong in the middle of the night. The phone still on one ear, he jumped out of bed, grabbing his clothes with his free hand.

"We got a call, Colonel O'Neill has been kidnapped. They want to trade the colonel for the code to open the package from lieutenant. Makepeace. I've tried to contact Gibbs, but he's not answering. Special Agent Todd is also on her way."

"Yes, sir," Tony replied curtly. He'd ask questions later. For now he knew he had to get over to Gibbs' house and make sure his boss was all right as O'Neill had been with him that night.

"Wait for her before you enter. A backup team is also on its way," Morrow instructed then cut off the connection.

DiNozzo quickly dressed while worrying. Director Morrow hadn't said a thing about Gibbs being kidnapped as well. Tony hoped Gibbs had just drowned his cellphone in bourbon while he'd fallen asleep under his boat.

Five minutes later he was in his car, imitating Gibbs' driving techniques as he rushed over to Gibbs' house. Normally, it would take him twelve minutes, and tonight he planned to make it there in six.

---oo---oo---

_**Author's note:** mwaahaa... you didn't see that one coming, did you?_


	18. What happened at Gibbs' house?

**GIBBS' RESIDENCE, SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON**

Special Agent DiNozzo arrived at Gibbs' house shortly before Special Agent Todd. He'd secured the perimeter, making sure nobody was out there hiding, ready to surprise them. He'd already noticed that Gibbs' front door was not closed, but left slightly ajar. Tony knew that while Gibbs never locked the door, he wouldn't leave it this way either.

He quietly walked over to Kate's car when she arrived. Kate had, just like him, taken the precaution of arriving at the scene by parking one block away.

"Tony?" she asked, keeping her voice low, when she got out of her car.

"Nothing amiss around the house," Tony reported, "everything seems quiet. Front door is left open, Director Morrow is sending a backup team."

"They're a couple of minutes behind us," Kate acknowledged, "I called in just before I arrived." She drew out her gun. "Let's go in."

Together they approached the house, looking through the windows before they reached the front door. No sound was heard and every room they could see was dark.

Pointing instructions, Tony slowly pushed the door open. Kate went in first, her gun trained in front of her, while Tony watched her back. The hallway was empty.

Together, they cleared the first floor; with the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom. They found nothing amiss, no signs of a struggle, and no Gibbs.

Kate stood close to the stairs watching over the first floor, while Tony silently walked upstairs, checking the master bedroom and the guest rooms one by one. He found them empty and the beds undisturbed. He quietly came back down, shaking his head at Kate, telling her he had found nothing upstairs.

Kate pointed to the stairs leading to Gibbs' basement, trying to determine what Tony's next plan was. Tony nodded and moved closer to her, his gun pointed at the area below him. Together, they quietly went downstairs. They soon spotted Gibbs' unmoving form stretched out on the floor close to his workbench.

Kate rushed forward and knelt beside her boss, quickly pressing her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse.

Tony swept the basement thoroughly before speaking, his voice betraying his concern, "Kate?"

"He's alive," she reassured him. She was already checking Gibbs over, prodding with her hands, in an attempt to discover why he was out cold. "Hit the light so I can see what's wrong."

Tony found the switch and he took in the scene around him. A few holes in the wall behind the stairs told him somebody had fired a gun in that general direction. There were some tools scattered over the floor, indicating a brief struggle had taken place. Next, he turned his attention to his boss. Gibbs was, as far as he could tell from his initial examination of the room, out of the line of fire. That, and the fact that there was no pool of blood forming somewhere around Gibbs, made him relax, if only a little.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Out cold," Kate replied. Gibbs had shown no reaction whatsoever to her prodding and poking. "I think he hit his head, or was hit with something. There's a big lump at the back of his head. I can find no other signs of injury."

"He's going to have a hell of a headache, then," Tony commented, dragging out his cell.

"Who are you calling?" Kate asked.

"Ducky," Tony replied. "Duck, it's me... sorry for waking you up... I need you to come over to Gibbs' place.... he's unconscious, Duck... no, nothing wrong with his shoulder, at least not that we know of, we think he got hit on the head... Thanks, Duck. I had to choose between Gibbs' wrath if I'd taken him to the hospital or you getting angry with me for waking you, so I took my chances with you.... yes, see you in ten." He broke off the connection and faced his partner while struggling to take his coat off. "Ducky is on his way. Told me to keep him warm." Handing his coat to Kate, he watched how she covered Gibbs with it and hit another speed dial on his cell.

"Director Morrow," he spoke, as the director of NCIS came on the phone. "We've secured the area, sir. Gibbs is here, unconscious. No, sir, Doctor Mallard is on his way... Yes, sir, if Doctor Mallard thinks it is needed we will take him to Bethesda... No signs of a break in, no. We found the front door open, sir and there's sign of a short struggle and some shooting. No blood, sir, so I don't think anybody got hit... No, sir, no sign of Colonel O'Neill... Thank you and see you later, sir."

"What do you think happened, Tony?" Kate asked, looking around. "From the signs of the struggle that went on over there, it looks like Colonel O'Neill was positioned over there," she pointed at a specific spot near the boat. "It would make sense, if you look at the bullet-holes there. Which makes it almost impossible for somebody to come up behind Gibbs and whack him on the head..."

Tony had been wondering that himself. He'd never seen anybody been able to sneak up to Gibbs in the first place, and, with the way he was lying down here in his basement, it was most likely not what had happened. He walked around the boat, searching the area. "There are no bullet-holes here, either. Did you find a dart?" he wondered, "looks like he hit his head on his workbench while going down."

"Nothing," Kate replied, looking back at the silent man on the ground. "Although they could have taken it out before they left. Maybe Ducky will find evidence for that. Or maybe he was drugged..." She glanced back at her boss. Talking about him without him responding was unnerving. She then glanced at her watch, wondering what kept Ducky so long.

"He's waking up," Tony remarked, noticing the slight trembling of the eyelids first.

"Gibbs?" Kate asked, while she placed one hand in a comforting manner on his left shoulder. "Wake up, Gibbs, come on. You've been sleeping forever."

Meanwhile Ducky had arrived and slowly came down the stairs. He was just in time to see how Gibbs opened his eyes. The ex-gunnery sergeant looked around in confusion, then grimaced as apparently the pain in his head made itself known. "Jethro, my friend. What have you done to yourself now," the medical examiner commented with a slight shake of his head. He'd been extremely worried after Tony's phone call and felt some relief by the fact that his friend had just woken up.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked hoarsely, still confused and not quite able to see straight. He made an attempt to sit up, but was held back by a firm hand on his shoulder. He glared at Kate.

"Stay put, Gibbs," she replied, not intimidated by his glare. "Let Ducky check you out."

The older man slowly knelt beside Gibbs, grabbed his wrist and took his pulse.

"What happened, boss?" Tony asked, as he noticed Ducky was finished.

"You tell me, DiNozzo," Gibbs grunted. His head hurt like hell and Tony's voice echoed in his skull. He had only vague recollections of his conversation with O'Neill that night and was desperately trying to remember what else had happened.

Ducky meanwhile had taken a moment to listen to his patient's breathing. From the corner of his eye he saw Kate point at Gibbs' head, so he now moved his hands, letting his fingers run over the retired marine's skull.

"Careful, Duck," Gibbs growled when Ducky's fingers touched the lump at the back of his head. It sent another bout of pain through his head and Gibbs had to close his eyes. It felt like sledge hammers drilling inside his head and it made him nauseous.

Tilting his head, Ducky glanced at the workbench and asked, "Do you remember hitting your head, Jethro?"

"Don't know," Gibbs gritted. There was something important but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Suddenly, he bolted upright, surprising both Kate and Ducky. "Colonel O'Neill... where is he?"

"Wow, Gibbs, take it easy," Kate warned him.

"Really, Jethro, you should know better," Ducky rambled, not liking to see the pain etched on his friend's face.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs barked, ignoring the other two as he knew it was important, although he had no idea why.

"He's missing, boss," Tony explained. "We think they came and surprised you. There's some signs of a struggle and some bullet holes in your wall over there," he waved his hand in the direction of the stairs.

Gibbs frowned, still trying to put the bits and pieces together. He batted Ducky's hand away. He remembered now, they had heard a scraping noise. If only his head would stop pounding. He swayed a little and felt a supporting hand on his shoulder.

Kate steadied Gibbs with one hand and maneuvered Tony's coat as a pillow behind the man's back then guided him until he was leaning against the workbench.

Raising a hand, Gibbs rubbed his eyes. "Everything is fuzzy... everything was blue..."

"Jethro," Ducky spoke up, his voice latched with concern, "I need to check you out. Try to sit still." He had a penlight in his hand and carefully checked both of Gibbs' pupils. "Do you hurt elsewhere, Jethro?" he asked.

"Shoulder's throbbing," Gibbs replied.

"Nothing else?"

"Isn't it enough, Duck?"

Ducky sighed. Hearing the sarcasm in Gibbs' voice was at least a good sign. His pupils had responded to the light properly and the fact that Gibbs was lucid and remembering most of what had happened made Ducky believe the head injury wasn't that severe.

"What's with the blue, boss?" DiNozzo asked, wondering about Gibbs' earlier statement.

"Something hit me," Gibbs remembered. "It must have been some electrical discharge," he was sure of it now, "left me shaking like a leaf."

"Where did it hit you?" Ducky wanted to know.

"Left shoulder."

Ducky was already checking, pushing Gibbs' sleeve up to reveal the skin. He found nothing amiss and Gibbs didn't respond to his probing fingers so the area wasn't hurting.

"Stun gun?" Kate asked.

"Something like that," Gibbs nodded, then regretted moving his head. He flinched and closed his eyes and waited for the next wave of pain to subside.

"The blue, boss?" Tony pressed on.

Gibbs tilted his head, opened his eyes and looked at his senior field agent. "It hit me, I fell and everything around me was blue, DiNozzo."

Tony frowned. He could picture everything, except for the blue Gibbs was describing.

Ducky looked concerned, wondering if he should reconsider his earlier assessment about the head injury.

"Hey," Gibbs snapped. "It's what I remember, okay." Suddenly, he remembered that O'Neill was missing. "Who's got Colonel O'Neill?" he asked and started to get up, only to be held down again by Ducky.

"Apparently, Lieutenant Makepeace did not give up the package completely, boss," Tony explained. "He put some kind of lock on it. They, whoever they are, have called. They want to trade O'Neill for the code."

At Gibbs' second attempt to get up again, Ducky raised a finger. "You are going to Bethesda."

"Am not."

"Jethro..." Ducky warned.

"Duck..."

Ducky sighed then shook his head. "Jethro, you took a serious hit to the head. I also need to check your shoulder to see if you've damaged that during your fall. You are not going anywhere."

"Want me to stay here all night, Duck?" Gibbs asked smartly.

"Well, I do believe you'd be more comfortable in your own bed. My leg certainly would appreciate that as well," Ducky replied. Two could play that game, he thought. Having brought up Bethesda first and his own leg second could just make him win a part of the battle and get Gibbs to take some rest. "Tony, would you please be so kind to assist Jethro getting up the stairs?"

"I can walk," Gibbs protested but took the proffered hand to get up. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, the nausea came back in full force and his stomach lurched. He had to lean back against his workbench and close his eyes.

Nobody commented. Kate helped Ducky up and they silently waited for Gibbs to regain his composure.

Slowly, Gibbs opened his eyes and waited a bit longer for the basement to stop squirming. When he was confident he could stay on his feet, he started heading for the stairs. He was aware of Tony hovering close, but refrained from making a sharp remark. To be honest, he was glad having somebody close by, just in case he lost his balance on the stairs.

DiNozzo carefully walked behind Gibbs. He deliberately didn't take his boss' arm, knowing the man wouldn't appreciate it, but watched him like a hawk. Should Gibbs stagger then he was there to grab him.

Kate and Ducky followed, Kate carrying Ducky's bag.

They reached Gibbs' bedroom. Gibbs was glad to be able to sit down on the bed. He wasn't sure how much further he could have walked unaided. He was dizzy and nauseous. He wasn't planning on resting yet, though. "DiNozzo, Kate... get back to the lieutenant's house. McGee.... " he frowned in surprise and looked around, "where is he anyway?"

"Probably asleep, Gibbs. It's almost four in the morning," Kate explained patiently.

"Well, wake him up, Kate. Tell him to get back to the warehouse. Find me that code!"

Kate gave a curt nod and left, her cell phone already in her hand.

"We'll get right on it, boss," Tony said before leaving as well.

"Duck," Gibbs started, tilting his sore head to look at the medical examiner.

"No, Jethro," Ducky spoke firmly. "I'm staying here. I promise I'll get back to the body first thing in the morning. But right now I need to check your shoulder and then you should rest." He already moved to assist Jethro in getting his shirt off. He guided his friend until he was stretched out on the bed and watched how Jethro's eyes slid close. Climbing up the stairs had obviously tired the agent out, he was already asleep.

---oo---oo---

_**Author's note:** Thankx again to everybody who has reviewed, put this story on his/her fav list and of course thankx to Lynette and Kate for the beta!_


	19. Help is on the way

**NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.**

The team -minus their leader- were sitting in the bullpen discussing their options.

McGee had been up since four that morning, after getting a call from Kate. He'd been surprised about the kidnapping and worried about Gibbs, but had done as requested. Having taken a younger field agent with him, McGee had combed the warehouse and the perimeter around it until eight in the morning. They'd come up empty. Nothing that could reveal the location of the code, and nothing that could point them in the direction of the kidnappers. It frustrated him, as he knew it would frustrate his boss.

Kate and Tony hadn't had any luck either. They'd gone through all the lieutenant's personal belongings. They'd searched his house through and through. Looked in, under and behind everything, scanned his address book and his private book keeping. Of course, not knowing exactly what they were looking for wasn't making it any easier.

They'd taken the lieutenant's laptop and had dropped it off at Abby's lab, hoping she would be able to get something off there.

Other than that, they had nothing.

"What if he never wrote down that code?" Kate pondered out loud. "I mean, he could have just memorized it, couldn't he?"

McGee nodded. "That would be the safest thing to do."

"Great," Tony grumbled. "We don't know who took Colonel O'Neill, have no idea where they took him and are looking for a code that might have never been written down."

"What do you think they'll do to Colonel O'Neill?" McGee asked.

"Geez, I don't know, probie," Tony sneered. "You've seen what they did to Lieutenant Makepeace, haven't you?"

"They wanted something from the lieutenant," Kate reasoned. "Colonel O'Neill doesn't know the code, so there's no reason for them to harm him."

McGee looked relieved.

Tony looked doubtful. "Unless they want to press us to come up with that code, Kate."

They fell silent.

After a while, McGee broke the silence. "We need to find him. Maybe we're concentrating on the wrong thing."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked, glancing at him.

McGee started typing on his computer. "Maybe we shouldn't try to find the code. Maybe we should try to find the people who've got the colonel."

"What are you thinking, probie?" Tony asked, curiosity leaching into his voice.

"I'm running a search for places with security cameras around Gibbs' house. If we look at them, we might get lucky and find the car they were driving."

"Excellent thinking, McGeek," Tony nodded. "Get copies of all those tapes and have them delivered to Abby, ASAP."

"Already working on it," McGee said, his eyes glued to his screen and the receiver of the phone in his hand. He looked up as the elevator doors slid open.

Gibbs, followed by Dr. Mallard, came in. Gibbs, without coffee this morning, said nothing but walked past them and headed up the stairs, straight to MTAC.

Ducky followed him with his eyes, then sighed deeply and sat down behind Gibbs' desk. "Have you found anything?" he asked, although from the looks on their faces he hadn't much hope.

"We came up empty," Kate said, shrugging helplessly.

"Nothing in the warehouse either," McGee filled in. "We're going to see if we can get tapes from security systems around Gibbs' residence, hoping to get a view on the car they were driving."

"How's Gibbs?" Tony asked. He'd been trying to get an idea of that himself when he'd watched how Gibbs climbed the stairs. The man had walked steadily, nothing showing he was suffering from a concussion.

"Pissed," Ducky replied with another long sigh. "He feels bad about Colonel O'Neill being kidnapped from his house. The fact that I woke him every hour to check his condition didn't do much for his mood either. But I had to. Head injuries can be tricky. He's going to be all right, though. He was lucid every time I woke him and easily answered my questions about dates and facts."

"That's a good sign, right?" McGee asked.

"Yes, Timothy. That's a good sign," the medical examiner replied. He had deliberately left out the fact that Gibbs had thrown up violently the first time he was woken up and hadn't been able to keep anything down since. First because it was to be expected with a concussion but mostly because Ducky knew Gibbs wouldn't appreciate that specific detail becoming the main topic of a discussion.

"Why didn't you let him rest a bit longer?" Kate wondered.

"I would have," Ducky said, rolling his eyes, "if it weren't for the Director calling. He needed Gibbs..." he briefly motioned in the general direction of MTAC. "Something about a conference call with Cheyenne Mountain."

"And what about his shoulder?" Kate asked, remembering Ducky mentioning he had to check that out that night.

"Luckily, he didn't damage his shoulder during his fall," Ducky reassured her. "But I am a little worried, though. He's not getting enough rest and the wounds are not healing the way they are supposed to."

"He won't rest until we find Colonel O'Neill," Tony pointed out.

"I know," Ducky acknowledged. Similar situations from the past had shown him nothing could drag Gibbs away from a case if he didn't want it to. "I know. Let's just hope we find him, fast. Not only for Colonel O'Neill's sake. Which reminds me..." the older man got to his feet, "I have a body to get reacquainted with waiting for me in autopsy."

He headed for the elevator, leaving the kids behind to worry.

---oo---oo---

**MULTIPLE THREAT ALERT CENTER, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

"Special Agent Gibbs," Director Morrow greeted his primary team's leader. Quickly taking in the man's appearance, he frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Gibbs replied shortly. He had a headache, his stomach was bugging him and he really, really wanted coffee.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this," Morrow said. "I know you want to stay and that you need to find Colonel O'Neill but the minute Dr. Mallard tells me you're not fine, you're off the case. Got that?"

"Yes, sir." Gibbs would have nodded if his head hadn't felt like the main practice area of a bunch of students preparing for their final exam to become carpenters.

Tom Morrow snapped his fingers. The man on duty behind the controls got the message and made the desired connection.

General Hammond appeared on the big screen. He didn't look happy. "Director," he started.

"General," Morrow replied. "Special Agent Gibbs is here."

"Special Agent Gibbs," Hammond barked, "what the _**hell **_happened out there?"

"General Hammond," Gibbs started, stepping in clear view of the camera. He stood straight and looked the general directly in the eye. "We've found that the man I shot a couple of days ago is the one responsible for torturing and murdering Lieutenant Makepeace. His name was Michael Badelt, a civilian stationed at NID under a Colonel Simmons."

Gibbs paused briefly, then continued his report. "Colonel O'Neill and I talked to Colonel Makepeace, and learned that Makepeace had discovered some incriminating information tying Senator Kinsey to a rogue group operating under the flag of NID. Colonel Makepeace packed that info and stashed it with his brother for safe-keeping. NID found out, made Colonel Makepeace come to work for them and they tracked down the younger brother."

"So now they've got back the information Colonel Makepeace has collected," General Hammond concluded.

"Given the fact that they killed Lieutenant Makepeace after torturing him for hours, we came to the same conclusion," Gibbs replied. "Last night, Colonel O'Neill and I were at my place, talking about NCIS closing the case and the colonel heading back to Colorado. Somebody broke into my house, I was rendered unconscious with some kind of stun gun and when I woke up, Colonel O'Neill was gone, Sir."

"That's when we got the call that they wanted to trade Colonel O'Neill for the code," Hammond said. "That's when I contacted you," he continued, looking at the Director of NCIS. Morrow just nodded.

"Lieutenant Makepeace apparently was smarter than they thought," Gibbs continued. He brought a hand up to his head and rubbed his left temple in an attempt to relieve the pressure. "He put some kind of lock on the package and hid the code someplace else. We didn't know that, Sir."

"There's no way you could have known, son," Hammond said with a reassuring tone. "Are you all right?"

"Just a headache, Sir," Gibbs answered.

"Is there any reason to believe Colonel O'Neill was injured during the kidnapping?"

"No, Sir. There's evidence that some shots were fired, but they seemed to be fired by Colonel O'Neill only. There were no signs of blood anywhere. Think they got him with the same stun gun."

"Good. Did you manage to find the code?"

"We're still looking, Sir, but haven't found it," Gibbs wasn't happy he didn't have more to tell.

"Major Samantha Carter and Doctor Daniel Jackson, members of Colonel O'Neill's team, are on their way to Virginia, Special Agent Gibbs," the General informed. "We need to get to Colonel O'Neill and get him out, fast. They will join your team."

"With all due respect, Sir," Gibbs started to object. "My team..."

"That was _**not**_ a request, Special Agent Gibbs. Would you prefer I let them run the investigation and search for Colonel O'Neill without you?" Hammond interrupted him sharply.

Gibbs looked at the general. Hammond looked back, his eyes demanding an answer. Relenting, Gibbs answered, "No, Sir. They can join us. But I need to know if they are qualified to be out in the field."

"They are," Hammond acknowledged. "They have enough combat experience, so you don't need to worry about that. In fact, they're bringing their own side-arms. They'll be landing in..." Hammond glanced at his watch, "about two hours."

"I already have a car on the way to Langley AFB to pick them up, General," Director Morrow said.

"Thank you. I hope we can make this a successful joint operation. But just to be absolutely clear, Major Carter has orders to take over if she believes she needs to. If there's classified information involved, you just have to step aside and let her do her job."

"That's understood, General," Morrow replied.

"Good. I expect to be notified when you make progress," Hammond stated.

"Will do, Sir," Gibbs promised.

Director Morrow signaled and the controller broke off the connection. Morrow faced Gibbs. "I know you prefer to work alone but you better make this work. It was this, or nothing at all. So back to work, you have a colonel to find."

---oo---oo---

**NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.**

Major Samantha Carter, Sam to her friends, stepped out of the elevator into the bullpen with Dr. Daniel Jackson on her heels. Their fourth team member was visiting his son and both General Hammond and Major Carter agreed that they didn't need to call him back.

The flight had been long and rough, but Sam was used to rough flights and had managed to sleep. She seriously doubted Daniel had slept, though. Not that her colleague wouldn't have been able to, but because he couldn't stop working. He'd been reading through files, trying to catch up with the backlog of translations. Luckily their driver from NCIS had stopped for coffee; otherwise she wasn't sure Daniel would have managed to stay awake the rest of the day.

She scanned the bullpen and spotted the silver haired team-leader she'd already seen during the video conferences with NCIS. She also noticed one of the younger men on the team jumping from his chair and clumsily tripping over something as he tried to be the first one to come over and welcome them.

Having done research on this team for Colonel O'Neill, she knew Anthony DiNozzo's file well and flashed him a smile. As she expected, his cheeks colored red, if only a little.

"Major Carter, it's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am," he said, as he stepped forward and offered her his hand.

Carter took the proffered hand, shook it briefly and pointed at her companion. "Special Agent DiNozzo, this is my colleague, Dr. Daniel Jackson."

Daniel Jackson stepped forward, shook hands as well then pushed the glasses back on his nose. "Hi. Call me Daniel."

"Tony," DiNozzo returned the gesture. "This," he turned and indicated in Kate's general direction, "is Kate Todd, that's Timothy McGee and there's our boss, Gibbs."

All the formalities taken care of, Sam got straight to business. "So, what happened?"

Gibbs signaled McGee, silently ordering him to brief the two visitors. The younger man stood up, and gave his report. Gibbs filled in the parts of the last evening, when they'd lost Colonel O'Neill.

"They stunned you with something?" Carter asked.

"Yeah. It sent me in a spasming fit and then it knocked me out," Gibbs confirmed, looking at the major. "You know what that was?"

"Gibbs mentioned something about everything turning to blue," Tony added, wanting an explanation for that particular oddity.

Carter exchanged a look with Daniel.

"You know this kind of stun gun?" Gibbs demanded, aware of the brief eye contact between the two members of Colonel O'Neill's team.

Sam tilted her head and looked at Gibbs. "Yes. It's an experimental weapon. It's not supposed to be used out in the field yet. It sends an electrical discharge through the target's body. It's supposed to knock the victim out."

Gibbs shrugged. "Guess it worked." At least he could stop wondering what it was that made him see blue.

"Uhm... did you find something out about the code Lieutenant Makepeace has used?" Daniel asked.

Kate shook her head. "We've been back to the lieutenant's house, the warehouse and the place where he was murdered. We haven't found it."

"We need to figure out where they took Colonel O'Neill," Sam reasoned.

"Errr.... we are checking some video recordings from security cameras around Gibbs' house," McGee explained.

"We are?" Gibbs demanded, the information new to him.

"Err, yeah, boss," McGee stammered. "I've found a few from an ATM machine, a gas station and a government building. While you were in MTAC, I made some calls and the tapes are probably with Abby already."

"Then what are you still doing here, McGee!" Gibbs spoke up. "Go and help her!"

McGee jumped and turned to leave immediately. "On my way."

"And McGee!" Gibbs called after him. He waited until McGee looked over his shoulder. "Good work!"

Next, he turned to Kate and Tony. "Fill Major Carter in," he ordered, then motioned for Daniel Jackson to follow him.

Surprised but following, Daniel asked, "Where are we going?"

Gibbs smiled. He'd done his homework. Frustratingly enough he hadn't been able to find much about the man from the past four years, but there were however records of him giving lectures about archaeology and ancient mythology prior to that. From those records, he'd found out something of Daniel Jackson's habits and already liked this man. "We're going for coffee."

---oo---oo---


	20. Searching for O'Neill

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Dr. Mallard was bent over the dead body of Lieutenant Makepeace. He was scanning every inch of the body, searching for anything he might have missed before. As usual, he was talking to his 'patient' on the table as he worked.

"You know, you are a very clever young man. Hiding the package was one thing, but you took it one step further, by placing a lock on it that only you could open. You had us all fooled," Ducky rambled, as he took the body's right arm and started looking it over. "You put us in a dilemma, though. We don't want to give them that code, but we don't want them to harm Colonel O'Neill either. So are you willing to tell me where you hid it?"

It wasn't on the right arm, of that Ducky was sure. He now bent closer to scan the right side of the man's torso.

"I have read _The Da Vinci Code_. An excellent book about generation after generation using codes to keep the greatest secret in the church's history safe and pass it on to only those allowed to know. I do think you've read that book... for coming up with something like this to seal a package."

"What secret, Doctor?" Jimmy Palmer, who was cleaning up one of the tables that had been used before, asked. He was used to Dr. Mallard's talking and found the stories the good old doctor told rather intriguing. Most of the time, anyway.

Mallard took the opportunity to get up and stretch his back. "According to the Bible, whether you are a Protestant or Catholic, Jesus Christ was a single man," he started to explain. "In this book, written by Dan Brown, Jesus was married, to Mary Magdalene. And that's not all, Mary Magdalene was supposed to be one of the twelve disciples, and the most important one as well. She was in fact Jesus' right hand."

"Weren't the disciples all men?" Palmer asked.

"That's what we all think, and what they want us to think. It's no secret what the Vatican thinks about women having a role in church. But if you look at _The Last Supper_, the painting by Leonardo da Vinci, and you take a good look at the person sitting on Jesus' right, that very much looks like a woman. Which makes you wonder.... Why would a great man like da Vinci paint a woman, if he believed that person to be a man?"

"But that doesn't prove anything," Palmer reasoned.

Ducky threw his hands in the air. "No, it doesn't. But then again, neither does a book, now does it? Even if it _**is **_called the Bible..."

Palmer shrugged.

"Anyway, it is this, and some more bits and pieces that the author of the book has used to convince the reader, or at least give him reasonable doubt, that one of the disciples could have been a woman."

"Interesting," Palmer said, making a mental note to go to the library and get that book to read it himself.

Ducky, meanwhile had gone back to searching the body and was now looking over the right leg. "Now imagine how the Vatican would react if it came public knowledge that Jesus Christ not only was married to a woman with a prominent position, but had a child as well."

"Oh, that would be a disaster," Jimmy agreed.

"Indeed. It would turn the whole system upside down. And, knowing how the church solved certain, shall we say, issues in the past rather drastically..."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" Palmer interrupted.

"Well, Mister Palmer, you must have heard about the inquisition... About the witch burning rituals, about the mass murder of the Cathars in France... they simply got rid of anybody that was or could be a threat to the Vatican... You did follow history lessons in class I presume?" Mallard looked up, briefly glancing at his student. He was in his element, Jimmy Palmer was a good listener, and always asked the right questions, making Ducky believe he was actually teaching the younger man something.

Palmer just nodded.

"Anyway, a group of people, calling themselves templar knights, decided to keep Jesus' bloodline safe from the Vatican and hid them through all those years. It's the main character of the book who in the end must decide whether to bring this knowledge public or keep it hidden once more... You should read it someday, Mister Palmer."

"Oh, I will, Doctor," Jimmy replied.

"It's..." Ducky stopped, then bent closer over the dead man's calf. "What have we got here?" he asked in surprise. He dragged the light hanging above the table closer and readjusted it so the beam was directed at the spot he was interested in.

Palmer stepped closer, wondering what the doctor had discovered.

Mallard took a closer look, this time with a magnifier in his hand. Then, patting the calf, he straightened and looked at the lieutenant's face. "You are indeed a very clever young man. I nearly missed that. Now let's call Gibbs and tell him."

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE IN A SMALL TOWN, VIRGINIA**

Colonel O'Neill woke up to discover a few unpleasant things. First, he had a mother of a headache, one that came close to the nail-in-the-head kinda thing, and those usually destroyed his mood. Second, he was sitting on a chair. Not that that was a bad thing by itself, but it was a bad chair, with a solid hard surface making both his butt and his back ache, and, even worse, he was tied down to it, hands behind his back and feet to the front legs of the chair. That really, really pissed him off.

Despite the headache he opened his eyes, only to small slits, and took in his surroundings. The room he found himself in was very basic: concrete walls and floor, one table and one chair --the one he was sitting on.

There was a door, which was shut. A small light bulb dangled on its wires from the ceiling, illuminating the room enough to see, albeit barely.

"Well, this sure isn't Kansas," O'Neill muttered. He closed his eyes once more. He'd seen enough to remember the few details of the room and keeping his eyes closed was a lot better for his aching head.

He started working on the knots behind his back holding his hands together. They had pulled the rope tight around his wrists, the rope scraped on his skin, leaving him little room to move and try to loosen them up.

Thinking back, O'Neill remembered being down in Gibbs' basement. They hadn't expected any trouble. The man that had tortured and killed Robert Makepeace's brother was dead, case closed for NCIS, leaving the SGC with the task to try to find out just how deep this faulty part of the organization went, and how high up in the chain of command.

So why had they come to Gibbs' house? He recalled Gibbs going down after being hit by a zat gun. He'd managed to shoot them off a bit, but one had been able to get a clear shot and had knocked him out as well.

Obviously, they had taken him somewhere. He had no clue yet why they had, though. He also wondered what had happened to Jethro. Had they taken him as well or had they left him behind on the floor of his basement? Or worse, had they shot him again with the zat, which would have killed him?

His wrists were rough and blood had started to seep through the raw patches where the rope had been pulled too tight. There was no progress in loosening the ropes; the harder he tried, the more it cut into his skin.

This was so not his day, he thought ruefully. He should have left Robert Makepeace alone, and should have never started the search for Robert's brother. He didn't owe Robert a thing and he sure as hell didn't need this kind of crap, not after all that had happened lately.

Jack sighed in resignation. He couldn't have done it differently. He knew that. It was just the way he was.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and two men entering. Masks covered their faces, slits in the material only showing small parts of the eyes. One man carried a baseball bat, the other a camera.

O'Neill looked at them. "You guys going to the Wild Things versus the Midwest?"

Neither of the men replied. The guy with the camera positioned himself with his back against the wall to O'Neill's left, lifted the camera, used his thumb to turn the wheel to zoom in and snapped a shot.

The flash blinded the Colonel, and he closed his eyes. "Whoa..." he protested, then slowly opened his eyes, only to see dark patches squirming his vision. "Give a guy a warning, will 'ya? I didn't smile. You didn't say 'cheese'..."

A whack on the head from the other man was all the response he got.

"On the other hand, I look good without smiling as well. So don't worry about it," Jack commented with a grunt.

Another blow, and another. O'Neill's head swung from the right to the left and back. He was hit on the head, the shoulders, the arms, hard enough that it hurt but not hard enough to render him unconscious. He tried to make some smart remarks in between blows, but this guy hardly gave him the chance.

It didn't take long before his lip was split, the old scar above his eye was re-opened and blood was even dripping from his ears. He already felt the swelling of several parts on his face.

"Did I say something to piss you off?" he croaked, once he had the chance.

Another flash blinding him was the only answer and then the two men left, closing the door behind them.

O'Neill was left alone, to regain his composure but mostly to wonder what on Earth this was all about.

---oo---oo---

**FORENSIC LAB, NSIC HEADQUARTERS**

Abby and McGee were watching tapes from security cameras, ATM machines and traffic control cameras. They had a lot of them, and it was taking them some time.

"Nothing on this one," McGee said, taking out a particular tape. He replaced it with another one. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, McGee," Abby replied. She was sitting on a chair, bent forward, leaning with crossed arms on the desk. With her head resting on her arms she looked like a bored teenager who didn't like the show her parents were watching.

"I didn't mean that, I meant..." Tim started, then stopped, realizing that didn't sound good.

Abby sat up straight. "Are you telling me that you don't care how I'm doing? Now that's not nice, McGee!" She pointed her finger at him in an accusing way. "That's not nice at all."

Timothy McGee, his eyes wide despite the fact he'd anticipated this reaction, was quick to try to make the best out of the situation. "It's not that I don't want to know how you are, Abby, you know that." He looked at her, noticing he wasn't making much progress. "I wanted to know if you found anything..."

The goth still looked angry.

"Oh, Abby, come on!" McGee said, a little frustrated. "All right, how are you?"

A faint smile. "You really want to know?"

He looked at her, honesty in his eyes. "Yes."

She cocked her head. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Abby!" the youngest member of Gibbs' team was now losing his patience.

She gave him a punch on the arm. "I'm fine, McGee. Thanks for asking. And no, I haven't found anything on the stupid tapes yet."

The special agent was already concentrating on the video footage on the screen.

"I'm worried, McGee," Abby said after a while.

McGee, still watching the tape, didn't respond.

She took Bert and squeezed him.

Tim jumped up and looked at her.

"That got your attention..."

"What?"

"I said, I am worried."

McGee was about to say something about the interruption when he noticed the real concern in her eyes. Her eyes got the sad little puppy look that he just couldn't ignore. He pressed the pause button before giving her his full attention. "About what?"

"Gibbs."

"Gibbs is fine."

"No, he's not," she argued.

"He will be," McGee insisted.

"He didn't bring me a Caf-Pow this morning. He always brings me a Caf-Pow, McGee!"

Tim sighed. "Abby, he got stunned last night and hit his head on his workbench. He's concussed and Ducky brought him here because he was needed in MTAC. They probably didn't have time yet."

"Didn't have time for what?" Gibbs asked upon entering the lab. One arm was still in a sling but he carried a Caf-Pow in his free hand and placed it in front of Abby on her desk.

"Time for..." McGee started stammering, wondering how to respond. "Time for..."

"Did you go through the video tapes?" Gibbs didn't wait for Tim to finish his sentence. He sounded impatient.

"We're working on it, Gibbs," Abby said.

"Well, work harder! We need to find Colonel O'Neill!" With that, he turned and left the lab.

Abby stared after him, hands tight around the Caf-Pow.

"See? He didn't forget," McGee said in a triumphant manner.

"But I'm still worried," Abby said softly. She sipped her Caf-Pow, then glanced at her companion. "He looked pale, McGee. He should be resting, not working."

Timothy McGee let out another sigh. He agreed with her on that, but also knew that was not going to happen. "Gibbs won't rest until we find Colonel O'Neill, Abby. So we better find something here that we can use."

Nodding, Abby hit the play button and concentrated on the screen.

"I've got something," she called out ten minutes later.

McGee stood up after pausing his tape and stepped closer.

"Look," she pointed. A white van passed the camera. "It's the only car passing this camera that night, McGee. This could be it." She turned to her computer and put the map of the area around Gibbs' house on the big screen. She marked the spot from the camera with a red cross, and placed a green one on Gibbs' house.

"We don't know exactly what time they came into Gibbs' house to kidnap the colonel," McGee started. "We know it was before 3:00 a.m. and this footage is from 12:55. We can see on the camera the car is moving that way," he pointed on the map, "So if this is our vehicle, it was moving away from Gibbs' house."

"They already had Colonel O'Neill by then," Abby agreed, "which means we should check the camera from this ATM-machine," she pointed on the map, "and see the van passing there around 12:48, right?"

Tim was already searching. When he found the tape he wanted he quickly wound it to the right time stamp. "There," he said, getting excited. "I think we've got it."

"We don't have a good image of the car, though," Abby tampered his enthusiasm.

"No, but we might get lucky on the other tapes," McGee wasn't going to give up easily. "We now know the time frame and which cameras to use."

"And we can also narrow down the direction of where they took off," Abby agreed. She held up her hand and gave McGee a high-five.

---oo---oo---


	21. Finally, the code

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Gibbs entered Autopsy, Daniel Jackson on his heels. They'd had coffee at the local coffee shop and had talked about their jobs, their teams and Colonel O'Neill, and where he might have been taken.

While he had done some research on his own regarding Colonel O'Neill's team, Gibbs hadn't been able to find much. He'd found records of Major Carter having done her share of piloting during the first Gulf War and that she should have enough experience in combat --for instance she had level three hand to hand combat training and there were lots of qualifications on the use of several types of weapons in her profile-- so he had no reason to doubt her abilities.

Dr. Jackson, on the other hand, puzzled him. His background in archaeology, ancient languages and mythology were easily accessible, but he hadn't found anything proving the man had at least basic training for combat situations, let alone the use of weapons. He wasn't buying the deep space telemetry crap, but couldn't for the world figure out what a man like Daniel Jackson could contribute to a military operation.

Yet General Hammond had assured him the man had enough combat experience. He took the general's word on that but, besides needing the coffee himself, Gibbs had especially taken the archaeologist to the coffee shop in order to get to know the man.

So Gibbs had been asking a lot of questions. Daniel Jackson had done a lot of talking, but had never let slip anything that Gibbs wasn't supposed to know.

Daniel had told him more about NID, and especially the rogue group that had been caught by Colonel O'Neill. It was clear to Gibbs that O'Neill had been undercover for that job and that his team had been left out of the loop. He didn't get too much detail, though, as Daniel told him most things were classified. It was easy to read between the lines and he knew that Daniel had been hurt by his team leader, by being left in the dark on the operation.

The coffee made him feel a little better. His head still hurt, but his stomach had settled and he felt more awake now than he had when he'd been in MTAC talking to the general. Of course he'd bought Abby her Caf-Pow and had quickly dropped it off. He loved sneaking up on her, knowing she expected him but always failed to hear him coming. It was something from his training, being able to move without anybody noticing.

"Duck," he greeted the older man, "What have you got?"

"Jethro, there you are," Ducky started. He looked at the other man with medical interest and was glad to see Gibbs was looking better than he had that morning. "You had coffee, I presume?"

Gibbs gave a small, affirmative nod then moved closer to the body on the table.

Daniel Jackson also stepped closer and pulled a face. He hadn't been in an autopsy before and seeing a body sliced open wasn't very appealing.

Ducky, taking off his gloves, smiled. "Young man, you look like you've never witnessed an autopsy."

"Uhm... that's true," Daniel replied. "Is this all really necessary?"

Ducky stepped closer, offering his hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been introduced yet. My name is Doctor Mallard, but my friends call me Ducky."

Daniel was glad to take his eyes off the body and shook the ME's hand. "Daniel Jackson. I'm on Colonel O'Neill's team."

"Ah," Ducky nodded. "You must be the one who speaks many languages."

"Uh, yes. Twenty-three, actually."

"I'm impressed," Ducky said, looking at the linguist with admiration. "Archaeology and linguistics... an intriguing combination. Although it is possibly true that in order to truly understand archaeological findings one must at least have a fair understanding of the language as well," Ducky briefly glanced at the younger man, noting his reasoning was received with a certain enthusiasm that people got from finally being understood. "I studied archaeology, briefly, before I switched to become a medical examiner, but that was a long, long time ago."

He pointed at the body and explained, "To get back to your earlier question: yes, it is necessary. In order for me to determine the cause of death I have to be accurate. There are many possible causes for a young man's demise and I have to determine the correct one."

Daniel glanced back at the body of Lieutenant Makepeace. He'd experienced enough during his time with SG1 to recognize the way the younger brother of Colonel Makepeace had been treated. "In this case, torture would be a reasonable guess."

"It would, indeed," Ducky nodded, "but did he die as a result of one of the torture techniques, did his heart give out, was he strangled to death?"

"Hm, the result is all the same. He's dead." Daniel shrugged and brought a hand up to his face, pushing the glasses back on his nose.

"Duck?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Hm, yes, Jethro." Ducky turned his attention back to the case. "I have found something," motioning with his finger he indicated for the man to follow him as he stepped closer to the table. He grabbed the body's calf and turned it a bit, then pointed at the tattoo visible there.

Gibbs looked closer, and Daniel also bent forward.

"Semper Fi," Daniel read out loud.

"Yes, that's an expression used by Marines," Ducky started to explain.

"I know," Daniel nodded. There were plenty of Marines within the SGC, so he was familiar with their motto.

"Duck..." Gibbs sounded impatient.

"Well, look closer, Jethro," Ducky said shortly. He pulled the light above the table closer, took a magnifier from one of the side tables and handed it to Gibbs.

Gibbs took the magnifier and grimaced as he bent forward, the movement pulling on the stitches in his shoulder.

"Look at the F," Ducky instructed.

"Well I'll be..." Gibbs responded. He straightened his back and looked at the medical examiner.

Ducky gave him a wide smile. "What a clever man he was, wasn't he, Jethro?"

"What?" Daniel took the magnifier and also bent closer to take a look. "Ah," he said, "I see it now. The pole of the F is made of digits and letters."

"I think it is fair to say this is the code," Ducky said. "He didn't hide it anywhere. He had it with him the whole time." He took a piece of paper, where he'd written the code earlier, from the table and handed it to Gibbs.

"So this is the code?" Daniel asked with a surprised frown. "The one they want to trade Jack for?"

Gibbs nodded.

"But we aren't going to give them that, are we? I mean, Jack would never want them to have it," Daniel said, rambling. "Not that I don't want to get Jack back, I mean, I want him back, just had him back actually, but you know..." While he had seriously doubted Jack's motives during the undercover operation he'd been left out of only a little while ago it made him respond stronger in Jack's favor this time. The whole friendship foundation thing still needed some work but no way on Earth was he ever going to doubt Jack again. "Jack doesn't negotiate."

"Neither do we," Gibbs replied sternly, not unaware of the rambling, especially what was said between the lines. He didn't respond to it, though, knowing it wasn't his business and turned, heading for the door, the code in his hand and fully expecting Daniel to follow. "Thanks, Duck!"

---oo---oo---

**NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.**

"All right, what have we got?" Gibbs barked, walking into the bullpen with another coffee in his hand. Although he didn't show it, he smiled inwardly. It was always fun to see how his agents snapped to attention upon hearing his voice.

"Boss, we.."

"Boss.."

"Gibbs..."

He raised a hand in the air to silence them all then looked at the youngest member of his team. "McGee."

"Uhm, yes, Boss," McGee started, standing up straight. "Abby and I have been going over those video tapes from last night when Colonel O'Neill was taken away from your house." He quickly bent forward to type a command on his computer.

A few images from the video tapes came up on the big screen. It showed a white van passing the camera, all from different angles. McGee pointed at it. "We found this van, on several cameras near your house. Right here," he pointed out one of the pictures, "it's passing this ATM machine at 12:48. With the time stamps and locations on all those pictures, we've managed to plot their direction."

McGee stepped back to his desk and hit a few keys. This time, a map of the area appeared on the screen, a route marked on it with a solid thick red line. "We think they left your house at 12:44, following this route to get out. As you can see, we lost it here," Tim indicated at the screen. "From here, they could have gone either way, but most likely in this general direction."

"What do we know about the van?" Gibbs asked.

"It's a typical Dodge Caravan, built in 1998. We only got part of the license plate, it ends with 625. The images we have aren't very clear but we think it is either a West Virginia plate, or a Delaware one. We've narrowed it down to two possibilities."

"The first one," Tony took over, putting an image of said van on the screen along with the picture of its owner. "Is this one, belonging to this man, Dick Calvin. Forty-eight years old, working for AT&T, been working there since 1992. Lives in Morgantown, a town located eighty miles south of Pittsburgh along the West Virginia-Pennsylvania border. Married, two children, member of the local golf-club, and donator to the WWF."

Glancing at Kate, he added with a boyish smile, "That's the World Wrestling Federation, Kate."

She glanced back at him, her eyes wide as she wondered why on Earth somebody would donate money to wrestling.

Unaware of Tony's play, McGee looked up. "Actually, it's the World Wildlife Fund, Tony."

Kate rolled her eyes at Tony.

Tony threw an angry look at McGee for spoiling his fun. Slamming a key on his keyboard, he swapped images, showing another van and another man. "Then we have this one. The owner is Steven Robbs. Fifty-four years old. Single, lives in Wilmington, Delaware and works as a desk clerk for an insurance company. Plays basketball and coaches a bunch of kids. He drives them to the games with his van."

"Anything tying either of them to the Air Force?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Nothing we could find."

"Major?" he asked, looking at Carter.

"I'll have to get access to a computer," she said, "then I'll see what I can find in USAF and NID databases."

"You can do that, later," Gibbs told her, "Abby will help you. McGee?" Gibbs turned to look back at the youngest man of his team.

Tim nodded in understanding. "Already put out a BOLO on both cars."

"Good job, McGee," Gibbs complimented the younger man then decided to share some information. "Ducky found the code on Lieutenant Makepeace's leg, hidden in a tattoo." He was aware of the surprised glances, but he didn't give anybody time to respond as he continued, "DiNozzo. Go and talk to Dick Calvin."

He thought for a split second. He knew he had been ordered to incorporate O'Neill's team in his investigation but he still felt responsible for their safety. He quickly decided that Daniel Jackson would be safest with his senior field agent, so he added, "Take Dr. Jackson with you."

"That's an awful long drive, boss," Tony started, with a whining voice.

Gibbs swung around, looking hard, saying nothing.

"Interviewing Dick Calvin, yes, boss," DiNozzo hastened to say as he jumped to his feet.

"Kate, McGee..."

"We'll go to Delaware and talk to Steven Robbs." Kate nodded, opening her drawer to get the car keys, her gun and badge.

"If needed, bring them back to NCIS. Vans too, so Abby can take a look at them!" Gibbs ordered, before turning around. He headed for the stairs, not waiting for his team to leave. He was already on the first step when he stopped briefly to look at Major Carter. "Are you waiting for an invitation, Major? With me..."

Carter looked from DiNozzo to Kate, her eyes wide in surprise at the way Gibbs ordered people around. DiNozzo flashed her a smile, and Kate merely shrugged.

"Guess I'll go with him, then," Carter muttered.

---oo---oo---


	22. Interviewing the suspects

A/N: Sorry about the delay, guys! I've been waiting for my beta to return the chapters but she's on hiatus, can't reach her, have no idea where she is or when she'll return! So I finally decided to just go ahead and post this chapter... I can make adjustments later if needed. So remember, this is un-beta-ed, all mistakes are mine and feel free to point them out to me and I'll change it! Sorry, Kate, that I didn't have more patience to wait for your mails. I just hope you are okay!

June 2009: Thanks to Lynette for beta-ing the story for me!

**MULTIPLE THREAT ALERT CENTER, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Major Carter followed Gibbs into MTAC. She recognized the area from when she'd been with General Hammond, setting up a video conference with NCIS.

A man came up to her, introducing himself as Director Morrow. After the polite formalities, he quickly got down to business. "General Hammond wants to talk to you."

The director signaled to the man behind the controls and only moments later General Hammond appeared on the big screen.

"Major. Special Agent Gibbs," the general shortly greeted them.

"Sir," Carter acknowledged, while Gibbs merely nodded.

"What have you got, Major?" Hammond asked.

"First, we are pretty sure it's a rogue group from within NID behind the Colonel's kidnapping, Sir," Carter started. "Special Agent Gibbs was knocked out with a zat. This means the group has access to certain security levels on Area 51. Unless there is something missing from the SGC?"

"I ordered an inventory check up last night and everything here is accounted for, Major," Hammond told her.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, having expected that. "That means it's NID then. Agents here have been following a trail from a vehicle, spotted near Special Agent Gibbs' house during the night. It's a white Dodge Caravan from 1998, and they've narrowed it down to two possible vehicles, one belonging to a Dick Calvin, the other to a Steve Robbs."

"Have you searched personnel files?" Hammond wanted to know.

"Not yet, Sir. But will get to that asap."

"My agents are on their way to interrogate those men," Gibbs filled in.

"Good," Hammond nodded. "Anything on the missing code?"

"Found it," Gibbs replied, with a brief nod as he glanced at Director Morrow.

"Colonel Makepeace's brother had the code tattooed on his leg, hidden in the Semper Fi print, Sir," Carter explained. "We're not going to give them the code, though, are we, Sir?"

General Hammond looked hard at her. "No." He motioned for someone outside of the view of the camera, and then Carter saw Sergeant Siler handing something over to the General.

"At 19:00 hours this was delivered to the main entrance," Hammond continued, as he opened the envelope and took out some pictures. He held one up in front of the camera.

Carter briefly closed her eyes at the sight of her commanding officer, slumped in a chair, bleeding profusely from several cuts on his face. It was obvious that he was strapped to the chair. She looked at the next picture, similar to the first. Colonel O'Neill's face looked swollen already, obviously from being struck with something.

"There was a short note with these," General Hammond told them. "They want the code. They're threatening to do much more damage than they have already."

"Send us copies of those photos as well," Gibbs said. "Abby will go over them and see if she can find something that will help us pinpoint the Colonel's location."

"We will send them to your lab." Hammond nodded in agreement. "Find him, people. Find him fast. Hammond out." The screen went black.

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE ON THE I-68 W**

Tony DiNozzo and Daniel Jackson had been driving for a little over two hours already. Tony had taken the I-270 northbound, then the I-70 west to Hagerstown. The I-68 westbound was going to take them all the way to Morgantown, and they had almost reached the Green Ridge State Forest.

They'd been talking all way, merely getting to know each other better. Tony had told several stories about his time as a Baltimore homicide cop, that he used to play basketball at Ohio State and explained things about how crime scenes were handled at NCIS.

Daniel, in return, told Tony about his archaeological background, about his studies of Ancient Egyptian culture and how his parents were killed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art when he was a little boy.

Tony, of course, couldn't help himself and started relating Daniel's stories to a movie, and for this, he used phrases and situations from Indiana Jones.

They'd stopped for coffee at several food courts along the highway, Daniel preferring dark french roast, Tony however trying several flavors, like Toffee Nut Latte and White Mocha.

"It does help working for the Air Force," Daniel commented, finishing his fourth coffee.

"Why is that?"

"They wouldn't let us drive all the way up here. They would have just arranged a helicopter," Daniel explained.

"Hmm, that would have been quicker," Tony agreed. It was at least another hour and a half driving, and then they still had to get back. "So how exactly did you end up with the Air Force?"

"They needed some expertise on some artifacts they'd collected," Daniel replied. "I helped them out with that, and, especially with my linguistic skills. They decided I could stay."

"They wouldn't speak that many languages in that mountain?" Tony asked, referring to Cheyenne Mountain.

Daniel just looked sideways, but refrained from commenting.

"You're not going to explain that, are you," Tony said, with a brief nod. "I know, I know. It's all classified. And despite what you want us to believe, it's got nothing to do with deep space telemetry, does it?"

Daniel just grinned.

"Anyway, Major Carter, does she have a boyfriend?"

"Uhm, no," Daniel replied.

"Why not? She's gorgeous, smart... everything a guy could wish for?"

"Except she's hardly at home," Daniel said.

"Oh, right. You guys lock yourself inside that mountain for weeks, speaking god knows how many languages," Tony quipped. "Come on, she must have had boyfriends?"

"Previous relationships didn't work out well."

"What happened?" Tony wanted to know.

"They died," Daniel replied shortly.

"Really?"

Daniel didn't reply.

"I better stay away from her, then," Tony concluded, realizing the other man didn't want to elaborate. He decided to change the subject. "How 'bout you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you single?"

Daniel dropped his head for a short while before lifting it again. "I'm married," he lied, not wanting to elaborate or explain how his wife had died. He quickly diverted the other man's attention, "You?"

"Me?" Tony laughed. "I have lots of girlfriends." He winked at Daniel. "I just can't choose which one is the real one for me."

"How about Kate?"

Tony laughed again. "Kate? Nah... she's my partner. Why?"

"Just wondering. So what are you going to do with this man, what was his name, Dick something?"

"Calvin. We're going to have a little talk to him. If needed, we take him back to NCIS with us," Tony explained.

"What if he doesn't want to come?"

"I can be very persuasive," Tony grinned. "He's coming, one way or the other. Back at NCIS, he's going to be interrogated by Gibbs. If he's hiding something, Gibbs will find out."

"You sound very confident," Daniel said, wondering.

"You haven't seen Gibbs in an interrogation," Tony said. "He can be very intimidating if he wants to."

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that." Daniel gave a nod. "Jack can be the same, by the way."

Tony shivered, remembering the part of the interrogation where Colonel O'Neill had thrown the other colonel against the wall. He hadn't seen the rest of the interview, as Gibbs had ordered him to leave the observation room but he remembered wondering who would be more frightening, a furious Gibbs or a furious O'Neill. "Remind me not the let him get angry with me... Anyway... enough of that... so tell me," he tilted his head to his right and glanced at Daniel, "what is the most stupid thing you've ever done?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Because..." Tony replied, one hand motioning at the road in front of him, "we still have a long way to go and telling stories is a good way to pass time."

"Oh." Daniel thought back to the embarrassing moment when he got caught in the harness of the mastadge on Abydos and how the animal had dragged him miles across the desert. It had taken O'Neill and some members of his team quite a while to catch up and cut him loose.

It was a good story. The only thing he had to do was make the other man believe it happened somewhere in Egypt. "Well, there was the time..."

---oo---oo---

**WILMINGTON, DE**

Caitlin Todd and Timothy McGee had been driving for over three hours to get to the largest city of the state Delaware. They had been stuck in traffic around Baltimore, which had delayed their arrival.

They'd just passed the Brandywine River, as Steven Robbs lived north of the river, and had left the I-95. Driving down Baynard Blvd, they would soon reach Robbs' residence.

Being late was actually not too bad, Kate thought, as it was more likely for Robbs to be at home instead of at work. Although they knew where he worked -on N Market Street, at the Wilmington Insurance Co.- it would be better to interrogate the man in his own home. A person's home could tell a lot about his character to profilers like Kate.

She parked the car on 20th St., close to the crossing with Monroe Street. A huge house was situated on the left side of the street, with red ceramic tiles on the roof. As they walked past it McGee whistled. "Impressive. Is that it?"

"No, I don't think so," Kate said, indicating with her hand, "We need to go there, around the corner."

A couple of minutes later, they reached Steven Robbs' residence. It was a typical townhouse, the cracks in the light blue paint showing the lack of maintenance. The path to the door was flanked by two beds of roses with soft purple lavender covering the ground. A car was parked in the driveway. It wasn't a Dodge, and it wasn't white.

They walked up to the front door, where Kate rang the doorbell.

A tall man, with short, dark blond hair answered the door, frowning in surprise at the people standing on his doorstep. "Yes?" he asked.

"Steven Robbs?" Kate asked, taking out her badge. At the affirmative nod, she continued. "We're federal agents. I'm Special Agent Todd and this is Special Agent McGee. We're from NCIS."

"NCI what?"

"Uhm, NCIS," McGee filled in. "Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We are investigating the murder of a Marine. Do you own a white Dodge Caravan?"

The man frowned. "Yes, why?"

"Can we come in?" Kate asked.

Steven Robbs just shrugged and opened the door a little wider, motioning with his hand for the agents to enter. He guided them to the living room, where they all sat down. "So what's wrong?"

"We are looking for a 1998 white Dodge Caravan, with a license plate ending with 625...," McGee started explaining. "And according to the records, you have one."

The man just nodded.

"Where is the vehicle?" Kate asked, while she took in the surroundings of Steven Robbs' house. She wondered if there was a garage on the other side of the house, where he could have parked the van.

"You mind telling me why you are looking for it first?" Robbs asked, his face still showing his surprise.

"A white Dodge was used in a kidnapping last night, in Washington D.C. We've got video tapes from security cameras, showing part of the license plate," McGee told him.

"Ending with 625," Robbs nodded in understanding. "And mine does, it's KGR-5625. But I can assure you it was not in Washington D.C. last night."

"Where was it?" Kate wanted to know.

"Not here," the man said. "I traded it with my sister's old brick, the one you must have seen outside. She's moving to another house, so she could use the space the van offers for moving her furniture... you get the picture."

"We have to check your story," Kate said in an apologetic manner, "so do you mind telling us your sister's details is and where she lives?"

The man threw her a faint smile. "Not at all. Got nothing to hide. My sister's name is Sarah Carpenter. She's married, has two kids and is moving from Baldwin, north of Baltimore, to Clarksville, south-west of Baltimore. I'll get you her address."

Getting up, Robbs walked over to the desk at the back of the room, dug through some paperwork he'd taken out of the drawer, jotted something down on a piece of paper and came back, handing it to Kate.

McGee, writing details from the conversation down in his PDA, tilted his head, asking, "and where were you yesterday evening?"

"Me? I was training my team last night."

"What team?" Kate wanted to know.

"The Delaware Destroyers. A youth team. Boys, in the age of 14 thru 16. They're gonna be quite famous some day, I tell yah," a glint of pride was seen on Steven Robbs' face.

"What time did you get home?" McGee asked.

"Around eleven, I guess," Robbs answered, considering his answer. "The training lasted till a quarter past ten, after that I had a little pep talk with one of my pupils. Hit the showers after that before coming home."

"Was there anybody with you last night?" Kate asked.

"You mean, at night?" Robbs asked, looking at her. "No. I live alone. I usually have no-one sleep over during the week. Sorry."

"Did you go to work this morning?"

"Of course," Robbs replied. "Started at 8 o'clock sharp. My boss can be really picky about people not showing up or coming in late."

McGee grinned. "I guess we know the feeling."

Kate knew they weren't getting more at the moment. Although they had to check his story, Robbs seemed to have nothing to do with the kidnapping. Getting up, she proffered her hand. "Thank you for your time. Sorry for the interruption. If we have any more questions, we'll get back to you."

With that, the two agents left and headed back to their car, McGee already using his phone to verify Robbs' story.

---oo---oo---


	23. Jack's in trouble

**FORENSIC LAB, NSIC HEADQUARTERS**

Major Samantha Carter looked at Abby as her fingers rushed over the keyboard of one of the computers in the lab. Special Agent Gibbs had brought Carter to Abby's lab, ordering them to get him more information on the two suspects.

They also had some digging to do in NID's personnel files. Carter wanted to look up more information on Colonel Simmons, the name that had come up when she was looking into Michael Badelt's file.

Then there were the pictures of Colonel O'Neill, sent to them by the SGC.

"Can't find anything on Dick Calvin or Steven Robbs. At least, nothing tying them to NID," Abby complained. "Plus, I can't access certain files. Can you?"

Carter stepped closer to offer her help. "Let me try."

Abby, meanwhile, got up and tip-toed over to the window separating her lab into two working areas. The door to the other part of the lab was closed and the lights were off but she peered inside.

Carter tilted her head. "Is he asleep?"

"Like a baby," Abby said with a satisfied smile. "He needs the rest."

Shaking her head, Sam replied, "I can't believe you managed to get him to lie down."

"Well," Abby answered. "Tony and Daniel aren't due back for a while and neither are Kate and McGee. There's not much he can do here, as he has no clue how to work a computer."

Carter threw her a smile as she remembered how Abby had convinced Gibbs, by pointing out the same facts she'd just summarized. She'd also grabbed Gibbs by the arm, pulling him gently but firmly in the direction of the futon in the other part of the lab.

Gibbs had made a few futile objections, but Abby had kindly reminded him that he didn't look so hot and that he was no use to them if he collapsed from exhaustion. He'd still given her a bit of a struggle, so she'd grabbed a hand-held mirror and had held it up so he could take a look at himself. Next, she'd promised him, three times at least, she'd wake him up as soon as they got anything and he'd finally relented. She'd made him stretch out on the futon, even had taken the time to take off his shoes and had covered him with a blanket before switching off the lights.

"I hope the rest will do him good," Carter commented before looking back at the screen. "I can't get in," she sighed, after trying a few things. Disappointed, she looked up at Abby. "I don't have enough clearance. And I don't know the password."

Stepping closer, Abby looked at the screen. "Is that an authorized username?"

"It used to be," Carter shrugged. "The password I knew just isn't working."

"Hmm, in that case," Abby pulled the keyboard closer and started another program. "Let's try my old time favorite password cracker."

"They'll find out," Sam objected, thinking NID would be breathing down their necks before they were in.

"Don't be too sure," Abby said, batting an eye at the blond major. "McGee is pretty good at setting up diversions. It will take them forever to figure out where this session is coming from. They'll be looking at servers all over the world before they'll find us."

She threw one last glance at the screen. "This is going to take a while, though." Heading for another computer, she pulled up a map of the area on the big screen.

Pointing at it, she continued. "This here is Gibbs' house. We've been watching tapes from security cameras here," she tapped on the map, "here and here. This tells us that the van with Colonel O'Neill vanished in this general direction." Again, she indicated it on the map. "Why don't you see if you can find a location they might have gone to while I take a closer look at those pictures."

"All right," Sam nodded, liking the way the lab girl efficiently divided the tasks. "Can I use that one?" she pointed at another computer.

"It's all yours," Abby nodded, then headed to the computer with the graphical software to analyze pictures and set to work. It was hard work, blowing up the pixels of the images and keeping focused on the details around Colonel O'Neill. She found herself drawn back to his face, his eyes, the cuts and the bruises that became even more visible with every command she gave the program. Wincing, she muttered, "That must hurt."

Carter looked over her shoulder, saw the magnification and gave her a rueful smile. "Yes, I guess it does. He'll be okay, though. He's tough."

"Has he been hurt before? Were you with him?" Abby asked, wanting a conversation to distract her from the images on her screen.

"Hmm, yes," Carter mused, thinking back to all the mishaps they'd had the past three years. "I was actually forced to set his leg once." The memory sent a shiver down her spine. "Believe me, that's an experience I'd rather forget."

"Ouch," Abby said, looking over her shoulder at the other woman. "How did that happen?"

"We..." Sam's mind raced, wondering how she was going to make this believable for the Goth then decided that honesty was going to last the longest. "I can't give you the details, Abby, but we sort of crashed into a cave. Colonel O'Neill ended up with a broken leg and several broken ribs, which caused him to bleed internally. It took the rescue team at least 72 hours before they found us and he was barely alive by then."

"That must have been scary," Abby said. "But this," she pointed at the image on her screen, "is scary too. You really think he will be okay?"

"We'll find him," Carter answered with confidence. She was caught by the worry she saw in Abby's eyes and tried hard to reassure her. "He's counting on us to find him. He will hold on until we do. So we better not disappoint him."

"We won't," Abby agreed, turning her attention back to the pictures. "There's nothing I can use here, though. The room is plain, no windows, nothing that helps. How are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for access to those files over there. Here, I've got nothing that really stands out. I know of some NID safehouses, but the closest to this general direction is 300 miles away. Somehow I think they are closer."

"Why?"

"We're Air Force, Abby. Don't you think they'd used other transportation than a van?"

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE IN A SMALL TOWN, VIRGINIA**

Colonel Jack O'Neill knew he was in trouble. Trouble, with a capital T. He was still seated on the same chair, his hands strapped behind him.

His head pounded from the blows he'd received, one eye shut tight from the swelling. His chest felt sore and tender, although he was positive nothing was broken. He'd broken enough ribs in his life to know.

The fingers of his left hand however were. Of that there was no doubt. They'd untied him upon another visit, a moment he'd tried to take advantage of by head butting the man closest to him, slamming his elbow in another man's ribcage. He'd almost managed to get away, if it weren't for the third man, who'd knocked the wind out of him before he had the chance to take him out as well.

He'd woken up slumped on the chair, his left hand on the table, his arm secured in a death grip by one of the captors. They didn't talk, didn't respond at all to the angry phrases he'd thrown at them.

One of his captors was recording the scene while another held him down, not only holding his firm grip on his arm, but leaning heavily on his shoulder to keep him seated. A third had then snapped his fingers, starting with the pinky, ending with his index finger.

He'd cried out at the sheer agony of each break. It had made him nauseous and had left him gasping for breath.

The nauseous feeling was gone now that he'd had a bit of time to recuperate. His hand felt numb and his fingers were badly swollen. He could feel the blood pulsing through his wrist in a rhythm that matched the beating of his heart.

They were using him as some sort of leverage. They needed something and were sending the recordings to get what they wanted.

Which left him wondering what they were after. They had Makepeace's package, didn't they?

Hammond wasn't going to give them anything though. He knew that and wouldn't have it any other way.

His team would come looking for him. They would find him. Maybe they would work together with NCIS on this, which would be good. In the short time he'd gotten to know Special Agent Gibbs, he knew the former Marine was not one to give up, either.

The question was how long it would take them to find him. They'd broken the fingers of his left hand already and he really, really wanted his right hand to be left alone. One hand incapacitated he could handle --he'd still be able to look after himself-- but two would make him dependent on others for just about every basic task of life. Daniel and Sam wouldn't have a problem with helping him, he knew, but he did. It wasn't the embarrassment, well, that too, but it mostly brought back memories he'd worked hard on putting away.

Nope, he wasn't going to sit this one out waiting. He'd better get the hell out of Dodge and for that, he needed to get loose.

Anticipating the pain, he shifted his arms to test the bonds. The agony that hit his hand, shooting up all the way to his shoulder was greater than expected and he hissed then bit his tongue to stifle a cry of pain. He breathed in short, shallow gasps and wished he could wipe the sweat from his face.

Jack concentrated on getting his breathing under control and kept his arms still to avoid another wave of pain. The idea of trying to loosen the bindings tying his wrists together with four broken fingers on one hand suddenly seemed a very bad plan.

---oo---oo---

**NCIS HEADQUARTERS, ONE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOMS**

Special Agent Gibbs sat on a chair, a file and a cup of coffee in front of him on the table. He felt a lot better after his nap in Abby's lab. His headache wasn't gone, but it wasn't like his head would explode with every movement he made. It was more bearable now and his nausea was gone, although he hadn't tried eating anything yet.

He patiently studied the features of the man on the opposite site of the table, taking in his nervous shifting on the chair and the repeatedly licking of the narrow lips.

Tony DiNozzo was also present, sitting next to Gibbs. The younger man leant back in his chair, one leg bent, the ankle resting on the other leg's knee. He was drumming with his fingers on the table, in the rhythm of the song that vibrated in the back of his mind. DiNozzo was enjoying this, where Gibbs managed to intimidate a suspect by basically doing nothing.

The suspect, Dick Calvin, was a middle aged man, with dark blond hair with strands of grey shining through above his ears. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a white shirt. The jacket of his shirt was wrinkled from the long trip back from Morgantown to Washington D.C.

The silence of the men in front of him apparently became too much to bear for Calvin as he asked, "Why am I here?"

Gibbs glared at him, wondering whether he should let him sweat a little longer. For someone with not a lot of patience, he could show a lot of patience during an interrogation. The clock was ticking, though. He needed to find Jack. He slowly opened the file and took a photo of the dead Arthur Makepeace from it, shoving it to the other side of the table. "My name is Special Agent Gibbs," he introduced himself. "You know that man?" Taking his coffee cup, he brought it to his mouth and sipped, carefully watching out for the suspect's response.

Calvin looked at the picture in front of him, shifting in his chair again as his eyes widened. "No, I don't."

Gibbs considered his answer for a second, then sat his coffee back on the table, took the picture and put it back in the file. Taking out another, he shoved it forward, this time one of Michael Badelt. "Him?"

Again, Calvin looked and grimaced at the sight of the dead man on the picture, the neat row of stitches on the bare chest clearly visible. He shivered. "No! What is this about?"

"We ask the questions here, Dick," Tony now joined in. He remained seated, leaning back as if he was watching a movie.

Nervous and a little agitated, Calvin looked at them. "I don't know them! I swear!"

Gibbs replaced the picture with another one. This time it was a picture of Colonel O'Neill, in his service dress uniform. "How about this one?"

Calvin licked his lips before glancing down. The fact that this picture wasn't of an obviously dead person surprised him a little and he sighed. "Never seen him before in my life."

"Are you sure?" Gibbs asked, demanding.

"Yes." The answer came quick. The man looked at the picture again, then asked, his voice pleading, "Can you at least tell me what this is about?"

"You own a white Dodge Caravan?"

"Yes, I already told him that," Calvin motioned in Tony's general direction.

"With the license plate," Gibbs paused momentarily to look inside the file, then read it out loud, "KRACK-625."

"Yes. Why?"

"Where were you, Wednesday night?" Gibbs continued without answering the question.

Calvin shifted again and his left eye twitched a little. "At home, with my wife."

"You're lying." It was a statement, not a question and Gibbs glared at the man.

Licking his lips again, Calvin replied without looking back at Gibbs, "I was with my wife. At home."

"I don't think so," Gibbs barked.

"Already told you, we asked around before we came to your house, Dick," Tony drawled. "Neighbors have stated that you left around 10:00 PM, with your van."

"You came to D.C.," Gibbs continued, his voice angry. "You kidnapped that man," his index finger tapped O'Neill's photo. "And took him somewhere, in your van."

Calvin's eyes widened. "No!"

"We have security cameras placing a white Dodge Caravan in the nearby area at the time of the kidnapping," Tony elaborated. "A 1998 one. With a license plate ending with the digits 625. Ring a bell?"

"It wasn't mine!"

Gibbs snatched the picture back, put it back in the file and shoved it aside. "Where were you?"

Calvin blinked nervously then shifted his gaze to the wall.

Gibbs slammed his fist on the table, startling the man. "Where," he paused, his voice lowering, with a threatening sound to it, "were," he deliberately paused again, then snapped the last word, "you?"

Calvin's breathing had increased, sweat drops dotting his forehead.

DiNozzo added a little of his own by dropping his foot loudly to the floor, leaning forward over the table, "I'd answer if I were you, Dick."

"I..." Calvin stammered.

"You were in D.C.," Tony guessed, "weren't you?"

"I..."

"Yes, or no, Dick," DiNozzo said, "it's an easy answer. I told you what he'd do to you if he thought you weren't being honest, didn't I?"

Calvin looked from DiNozzo to the other man. Agent Gibbs' dark blue eyes seemed to see straight through him and gave him the shivers. He faintly nodded.

"Who were you with?" Gibbs barked.

"Where did you take Colonel O'Neill?" DiNozzo asked.

"I can't tell you," Calvin whispered. "But I didn't take that man anywhere. It wasn't me."

"Then who was it?" Gibbs snapped. He was losing his patience. He grabbed his coffee and emptied the cup with one swallow before crushing it and dropping it back on the table.

"Look, I didn't kidnap anybody," Calvin stated, sighing in resignation. "I was bringing a load of weed to one of my buyers."

Surprised, Tony straightened his back. "Weed?"

Gibbs merely stared at the man, trying to determine his honesty.

Calvin guiltily looked down. "We needed the money, okay? We needed..."

"Name and address?" Gibbs demanded, interrupting the man as he wasn't the least interested in his excuses.

"Are you kidding?" Calvin replied, his eyes wide. "I can't give you the name of my buyer! It would ruin... " upon looking at the older agent across the table, he became silent.

"Name and address?" repeated Gibbs, his tone making it clear he wasn't going to ask again.

Dick Calvin gave in. "Frank Moss. 396 Woodberry Street, Lewisdale."

---oo---oo---


	24. We're missing something

_Author's note: thanks to Lynette for the beta!!!_

* * *

**NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, WASHINGTON D.C.**

The team minus Gibbs but plus Major Carter and Daniel Jackson were gathered in the bullpen, wondering what to do next. They seemed to have run out of suspects as well as out of options.

They were discussing their findings as Gibbs came out of the elevator, balancing two cups of coffee in his free hand. He only had to make a short motion with his head for Daniel to understand as the younger man quickly reached forward, taking one of the cups. "Thanks."

"Wow, boss," Tony commented, "did you bring us anything?"

"Did you find Colonel O'Neill yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs responded, arching a brow at his senior field agent.

"Uhm, no, boss," DiNozzo replied, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "We're stuck."

"We're missing something." Gibbs walked over to his desk. "Kate, call Abby. Tell her I need her." Without waiting for her reply, he looked at DiNozzo again. "Dick Calvin. What have we got?"

All business, Tony started reeling off his findings, quickly signaling McGee, "Dick Calvin. Married to Agnes, or rather Agnieska Glowinski." Everybody looked at the portraits McGee had put on the plasma screen. "His wife is Polish, came to the US back in 1991. They got married in '96 and have two children, Gabriel, who is now eight years old, and Anja, currently five years old."

He paused as Abby, still dressed in her red jumpsuit, the one she wore while working in the garage, arrived. The Goth threw Gibbs a questioning look. "You called, boss-man?"

"We're going through our findings, Abs. We're missing something and I want to know what it is." Gibbs pointed at a chair, therewith ordering her to sit down.

"We saw the Dodge Caravan parked on their driveway," Daniel continued once Abby was seated, "and asked around by the neighbors. One of them informed us Calvin had left in the van on Wednesday night, sometime around 10pm. Another neighbor confirmed that story."

"We confronted Calvin and he didn't have a straight answer for us. It was obvious he was lying, so we brought him in," DiNozzo explained their next step of action.

"All right, so he was smuggling weed," Gibbs said, referring to the interrogation that had taken place. "His story checked out?"

Tony nodded. "His buyer confirmed the delivery, I've sent in the local cops to Calvin's house and they discovered his little greenhouse. His wife has been brought in for questioning."

"Uhm, didn't he say he needed the money?" McGee asked, while running some searches on his computer. "I think I found out why. They have a large number of hospital bills. It's their son, he's got MS and their health insurance isn't covering all the costs."

"Major," Gibbs faced Carter, "any connections to NID or the Air Force?"

"No, Sir," Sam replied like she would have when it had been O'Neill asking the questions. Gibbs might have been lower in rank, his presence and authority just made it natural for her to respond that way. "I've run Calvin and his family through Air Force personnel files and searched NID files as well, as soon as Abby managed to hack in to them," she tilted her head, smiling at the lab girl. "Nothing that connects them."

Gibbs turned slightly, tilted his head to look at Abby. "The van?"

"Went through it, Gibbs," Abby reported. "I can confirm the weed-story. The smell alone is a dead give-away. No traces of Colonel O'Neill in the back. He hasn't been in that van."

"Kate?"

Kate didn't need to be prompted and replaced the images of Calvin and his wife with a couple of other photos. "Steven Robbs, single, lives in Wilmington, Delaware. Works for an insurance company, trains the teenage boys of the Delaware Destroyers. Has lent his van to his sister, Sarah Carpenter. She and her family are moving from Baldwin to Clarksville."

McGee continued, "Steven Robbs claimed to have been at the basketball club that evening. His story checked out, he left there around 11:00pm. We also checked his work, he was in the next morning, regular time."

"We don't know where he was at night?"

"In bed, sleeping," Kate replied, "that's what he said. He didn't have the van, though. That was in Clarksville that night. His sister and her husband had stayed over in their new home. We spoke to both of them, and they still have the van."

"But do we know for sure the van was there _**all**_ night?" Gibbs demanded.

Kate shrugged. "The sister and husband stated it was on their driveway when they went to bed around 11:00pm. It was there in the morning. We checked with some neighbors, but they were asleep and didn't notice. So, no."

"Major?" Gibbs once again addressed Carter.

"Again, nothing," Sam reported. "I've run Robbs, his sister, her husband and other related family members we could find through the files. Nothing ties them to the Air Force or to NID personnel."

Gibbs rubbed his temple. His headache was coming back with a vengeance and the overall better feeling he'd had after taking a nap on Abby's futon was quickly fading. It frustrated him, not feeling a hundred percent. They were close, his gut told him that, but his pounding head made it hard to think clearly. That, plus the sharp stabs of pain shooting through his shoulder did nothing for his mood.

Turning to look at the youngest man of his team, Gibbs barked, "McGee." He saw the man snapping to attention. "Go through Robbs' bank- and phone records. Then do the same with his sister. Abs, the pictures of Colonel O'Neill?"

Abby shrugged and threw Gibbs an apologetic look. She wished she had more, she was used to getting him more. "Except that I could tell those bruises must really hurt? Nothing, Gibbs. They, whoever they are, knew what they were doing. The room didn't ..."

She was interrupted by the phone on Gibbs' desk ringing. He snatched up the receiver, annoyed at the interruption and growled, "Gibbs." He listened for a while, then simply put the receiver down before facing Kate. "That was Director Morrow. They've sent a video recording to Cheyenne Mountain. The file should appear on your screen." He pointed at the big screen. "Play it."

She received the file and transferred it, then started it by pressing the play button with her mouse.

The footage was short, but unmistakable. It showed the same room as the pictures they got from Colonel O'Neill. The Colonel was seated, one arm laid out and held down on the table, and a man with a mask was seen pinning the Colonel down on his chair.

Gibbs didn't visually react to the scene that played out in front of him. He just watched, keeping his anger at bay and tried to identify one of the men that came into view, hoping they'd made a mistake, something, anything.

Abby did react. As soon as she realized what she was about to witness, she started a desperate mantra, "No, no-no-no, no!" She kept whispering the word "no", only stopping to inhale sharply at the snapping sound of a bone breaking and the cry of pain that accompanied it. She pressed her hands in front of her mouth and wanted to look away, but found she couldn't.

It was over before they knew it. The whole scene had taken only a couple of minutes. Gibbs turned, glanced at O'Neill's team.

Carter tried to keep an impassive face, but he could tell she was angry. She briefly closed her eyes and bit her lip then looked away to regain control over her feelings. He admired her strength and realized she'd seen more in the past to be able to keep in control like that.

Daniel looked baffled from the brutal images. The younger man had his arms wrapped around his chest, as if hugging himself and was shaking his head, cursing, "Son-of-a-bitch."

Trusting his senior field agent to have focused on the details, Gibbs asked, "DiNozzo! Anything giving something away? Identification, location?"

Tony shook his head. "Nothing, boss. We could watch it over and over again, but I'm positive. Those people are good."

He'd come to the same conclusion, so he gave a short nod at Tony then turned his attention to the other man of his team. "McGee!"

"Boss..." McGee stammered. Like Abby, he was shocked. "They broke his fingers..."

Gibbs looked at him, knowing he had to do something, say something, to get McGee out of his shock and back to work. Stepping in front of McGee's desk, he put his good hand down to lean on it and brought his face close to the shaken man and looked him in the eye. "I wouldn't worry about his fingers, McGee," he said, keeping his voice flat.

Tim just stared back at him with wide open eyes, shocked surprise edged on his face.

"I'd worry about what they will break next if we don't find him." The last words were spoken a little bit sharper, harsher and Gibbs watched how it affected McGee. His initial shock was suddenly replaced by a look of understanding as the agent snapped out of it and drew his attention back to his own screen.

"Colonel Simmons. What have you got on him?" Gibbs pushed on, unwilling to give up. He straightened his back and tilted his head to glance in Major Carter's general direction.

Carter gave a nod at Kate, who brought up a picture of the colonel in civil clothing on the screen. It showed a middle aged man, with a high forehead and dark eyes. He looked like your regular government bureaucrat. "Colonel Frank Simmons," she started. "Forty-five years old, working with the NID, at the Pentagon, since," she looked in her notes, "1999. His assignment is to study," she hesitated briefly, "foreign technology and see what can be used to our advantage. We already know he recruited Michael Badelt."

"Boss!" McGee, unaware of Major Carter's report, called out, "I've got something!"

Gibbs turned and looked expectantly at his IT-miracle worker.

McGee replaced Colonel Simmons' picture with a listing of phone records. Several calls were marked. "I was going through Steven Robbs' records. He's been making lots of calls to one particular number. I checked his credit card, did some matching... I think Robbs has a girlfriend."

"And?" Gibbs urged.

"And look at the time stamp of the last entry in this list."

They all looked at the screen. The last call was Wednesday evening, about a quarter before midnight. McGee continued to explain, "According to the GPS system, he was at home. But she wasn't, she was somewhere on the I-95, between Baltimore and Washington DC."

"Who is she?" Gibbs asked the obvious.

A picture appeared on the screen. "Maria Wood," McGee said.

"Whoo!" Daniel exclaimed, stepping closer. "She looks familiar..."

Gibbs glanced at him, wondering how to push him for more information. Major Carter now also stepped closer. "She reminds me of somebody," she mused, then glanced at McGee. "Siblings?"

Tim was already working on it. He quickly pulled another image up on the screen. "A sister, Clare."

"Uhm, Sam?" Daniel turned to look at his teammate, his eyes wide.

She nodded her agreement. "Oh, yes. Definitely familiar."

"Care to fill us in?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

Carter pointed at the sister. "That's Lieutenant Clare Tobias. She's NID, rogue group. Was on Makepeace's team and got arrested by Colonel O'Neill as well. She's in custody."

"Would this be a revenge attack on her sister's behalf?" DiNozzo asked.

Carter looked at him. "I don't think so. Why send us the tapes? Besides, if I was taking revenge, I'd have gone for his shooting hand. No, there's something in that package that Colonel Makepeace gave his brother to keep safe. Something important, and they want it real bad."

"Timeline?"

"It's possible," Kate replied. "She could have taken the 32 northbound, swapped cars in Clarksville and gotten to your place in the time."

"What about the boy friend, isn't he in this with her?" Tony wondered out loud.

McGee, who had been on the phone, could shed some light on that as well, "Boss, Steven Robbs didn't show up for work this morning."

"Oh, he's in it," Gibbs concluded. "He stayed at home, to provide an alibi. Where did they take Colonel O'Neill? Get me something, McGee! DiNozzo! The van was back in Clarksville in the morning. How far could they have gotten? Major? You've got your connection. Anything from NID files?"

They were all frantically typing, running searches, matching information, trying to find something that could point them to where they might have taken Colonel O'Neill.

Tony pulled up a map of Washington DC and had it marked with a red circle indicating the area which was reachable within the time between the kidnapping and delivering the van back to Steven Robbs' sister's house. "They could have switched cars," Tony opted doubtfully, as he looked at the map.

"I don't think so," Major Carter said without looking up from Kate's computer where she was accessing NID files. "Here," she pointed at the screen, "this might be something..."

"Boss, I think I got it!" McGee called out. He looked up, glancing at the major as he realized she had something as well. "There's this home, located outside of ..."

"That's property belonging to the Tobias family," Carter nodded, realizing they'd come up with the same location, "it's perfect."

"I've done some matching, boss," McGee exclaimed, "and Michael Badelt has visited the nearby area a couple of times during the last month."

"Abby, get into MTAC and get us satellite coverage and fill in Cheyenne Mountain," Gibbs had already opened his drawer, grabbing his badge, keys and gun.

"Gibbs!" Abby protested, her eyes wide at the suggestion. "I don't have clearance..."

"Don't care, Abs... kick down the door if you have to.." He didn't even look at her, trusting her to find a way and tilted his head, urging the others to hurry. "Come on!"

Tossing the keys through the air to Tony, he fully expected them all to follow him as he already was at the elevator, pushing the button.

"Wait," Carter called out, stopping Gibbs dead in his tracks. He turned, giving her one of his famous glares.

She just pointed up at the ceiling.

It took him only a split second to understand what she meant then he gave her a small nod, remarking, "Came prepared, didn't you, Major?"

---oo---oo---


	25. Approaching the Tobias property

**MULTIPLE THREAT ALERT CENTER, JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR **

_"Kick down the door if you have to..." _

Gibbs' words echoed in her mind as Abby Sciuto stood in front of the door blocking her way to MTAC. She pressed two fists to her mouth, looking from the left to the right, hoping nobody would see her.

She'd already checked Director Morrow's office, but of course he wasn't there. That was why she was looking at the closed door, the iris scan next to it, wondering what to do.

_"Kick down the door if you have to..." _

Abby started walking up and down the hall, sharply turning around after taking eight steps. The idea of kicking down the door, possible of not, scared her and she was pondering on a solution.

"I have to get in there, I have to get in there," she quietly mumbled, still pacing. "Gibbs needs me, Colonel O'Neill needs me... they broke his fingers.. Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

She came to a halt in front of the door and wondered if she should just go back to her lab and try to call MTAC using a satellite hovering over Florida. Of course she could also ask one of the other agents down in the bullpen. Or she could just do as Gibbs had suggested?

She was nervous and worried at the same time. So she started pacing again with her shoulders slumped as she looked at the floor, talking softly to herself, "kick down the door, just knock, what if I just let the scan read my eyes, will they notice? They broke his fingers, oh, god..."

She stopped again and looked at the door. "I'm a scientist, not an agent... I don't belong in there...," she bit on her lip, then shook her head. "I can do this, I can do this." Giving a nod to build up courage, she stepped closer to the door, took her position and swung back one leg.

Abruptly, she stopped, shortly before her foot reached the door, muttering, "I can't just kick down the door!" She placed her foot back on the floor, then a thought occurred to her and, taking one step forward, she balled one hand and started knocking on the door, three times quickly, then three longer, solid knocks, followed by another set of three short, sharp ones.

She smiled, proud about the solution she'd come up with, waited a bit then repeated the process, imitating the morse sign for SOS.

The third round was barely finished as the door opened, showing an irritated agent who looked at her questioningly.

"I need to talk to Director Morrow! I have a message for Cheyenne Mountain. Gibbs told me to get in here and get him satellite coverage... They broke Colonel O'Neill's fingers. I know I don't belong here, but Gibbs said I had to kick down the door..." Abby started rambling non-stop.

"Miss Sciuto!" Director Morrow appeared, stopping her in mid-sentence and motioned for her to come in. "Slow down," he tried to calm the hyper Goth as he tried to determine how important the information was. Deciding that Gibbs wouldn't have sent her if it wasn't absolutely necessary, he turned to his staff and ordered, "Get me General Hammond, Cheyenne Mountain, stat."

It took only a short time then General Hammond appeared on the big screen.

"General Hammond," Morrow greeted the other man. "There's a development. This is Miss Sciuto, our forensic analyst. She's got some information."

"Gibbs is on his way to Maryland, an area east of Patuxent River State Park, near Cattail Creek at Roxbury Mills. He needs satellite images of the area," Abby quickly tried to explain. She stepped closer to the operator, grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down some numbers. "These are the coordinates."

Hammond responded efficiently. "What's there?"

"A private property of the Tobias family," Abby replied. "We've discovered that the woman driving the van at the time of the kidnapping is Clare Tobias' sister Maria."

"We're establishing radio contact with the helicopter," Hammond said.

"Satellite in position, sir," the operator called out.

Morrow looked at the images appearing on the left side of the wide screen, while the frame showing General Hammond adjusted in size and repositioned itself on the right side. "Patch them through to the helicopter," he ordered.

"Their ETA is sixteen minutes," Hammond informed them.

"There is some movement at the back of the house," Morrow remarked. "Probably some guards."

"Looks like there's more of them there, and there," Abby pointed out, her nerves gone now they were all business.

"The west side looks the best for approaching the house," Morrow concluded after studying the footage for a while. "There are probably six or seven guards, three in the back, one on both east and west and I can spot two of them in the front."

Hammond just nodded, briefly glancing sideways to assure himself that the message was being passed on to the pilot. "Pilot responds that's perfect regarding the wind as well. Where can they set the helicopter down?"

"We're getting to that," Morrow replied as the images of the area zoomed out, showing them more of the surroundings. He pointed at a specific area.

"That would be perfect," Abby called out, agreeing with the director. "There's a little field, approximately fifteen-hundred yards south-west of the house."

"They can approach the house from that side, there's a lot of trees," Morrow mentioned. "Can't tell if there are guards there waiting, though."

"I see it," Hammond replied as Sergeant Siler had managed to hook up the images to a large flat screen that was positioned on the general's desk. "Looks good to me. I guess they're nearly there. I've seen plenty of operations from above, some successful, others not. I hope this is one of the successful ones."

---oo---oo---

**THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY, NEAR CATTAIL CREEK **

By car, it would have taken the team at least ninety minutes to reach Cattail Creek. The helicopter had taken them there in half that time.

Besides the pilot, there were three airmen with them on board. Major Carter had spoken with them during the flight, giving them orders to secure the perimeter after they landed, thereby providing them a safe escape-route.

McGee had pulled up a map of the area on his Blackberry. With that, and the additional information given to them by the pilot, who had been in contact with MTAC, the team knew where they were going to land and had discussed their options on approaching the house.

Reaching their destination, the pilot took the helicopter down and flew as low over the trees as he dared. McGee, the only one of the team who had a problem with heights, sometimes had to close his eyes, afraid as he was they would actually hit the top branches of some trees. That didn't happen, however, and only moments later the little field appeared below them. The helicopter descended and smoothly landed on the grass and the pilot shut off the engine.

The three airmen left the helicopter first, securing the area and taking in their positions, before the team got out, Gibbs first, Major Carter right behind him, Tony, Kate, Tim and Daniel following suit.

Gibbs and Carter briefly communicated with each other with hand-signals, then, with their heads low as the rotors were still spinning, the team started crossing the field towards the trees in the direction of the Tobias property. Carter kept scanning the area to their right, Gibbs to their left.

The silent group reached the trees and quietly made their way through. They'd covered about twelve-hundred yards without trouble when Gibbs called a halt. They were reaching the end of the trees, the contours of the property already visible.

Whispering, Gibbs talked his plan through with his team and Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. With the information they could get on the house they had determined a couple of possible rooms Colonel O'Neill could be in. One was in the basement and one on the second floor of the house.

Intel from the satellites had told them about the guards around the house and Gibbs had his plan ready on how to approach. He explained it, once again making sure everybody knew what his or her role was.

Before they continued, Gibbs wanted to observe the guard on the west side of the house for a while, making sure there was only one, and that nothing would jeopardize the operation. Trusting Major Carter to secure the perimeter, he searched for the right spot.

Taking out his binoculars Gibbs crawled forward, searching for the best opening between the branches and leaves to observe the house. Carter whispered some instructions; she wanted Tony to sweep the area to their left, while she would do the same to their right.

She was about to turn and leave, indicating for Tony to do the same, when a faint scraping sound from their right startled them, followed by a soft familiar voice. "Hi, kids. Missed me?"

Gibbs turned sharply, then immediately relaxed as he recognized O'Neill. Carter looked up in surprise, answering briefly, "Sir."

Tony and Kate both had their weapons drawn in a split second but they put them down just as quickly. McGee stared at the unexpected visitor, surprised the other man's approach had remained unnoticed to all of them, but especially to Gibbs.

Daniel just rolled his eyes skyward. "Jack! You shouldn't sneak up on us like that!"

O'Neill grinned in a boyish manner.

Daniel looked him over. Jack looked better than he'd expected. His face was bruised and swollen, some dried patches of blood crusted on his skin. Only someone that knew him well would notice his slightly bent posture, indicating his ribs were bothering him. He had his left hand raised in front of his chest, a rough makeshift bandage wrapped around the fingers, fastened with a knot at the back of the hand. Indicating it, Daniel remarked, "Your fingers. They're broken."

Jack threw his friend a look of annoyance. "Yeah. I kinda noticed that."

Gibbs, remaining on alert, threw a quick examining glance at the colonel, asking, "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," O'Neill answered lightly. "Don't worry, there are no guards left on this side of the house."

Carter, knowing her commanding officer wouldn't just stand there if he hadn't made sure it was safe, smiled as she took in the surprised glances from Gibbs' team. "Good to have you back, Sir." She pointed in the correct direction, reporting, "There's a helicopter waiting for us about two clicks that way. We can be back at NCIS HQ in forty-five minutes."

"That's good, Carter," O'Neill replied without glancing over his shoulder. "That's really good. But we're not going."

"Colonel," Kate spoke up in protest, "you need medical attention."

O'Neill briefly glared at her, then shifted his attention, facing Gibbs. "They have Makepeace's package. I'm going back in. It could be Robert's ticket out of jail. Or at least save his life."

Gibbs nodded in understanding. "What have you got in mind?"

Jack reached with his right hand for a small branch, broke it off and started drawing in the soft soil on the ground. "This is the house. There are at least a dozen of them, four are neutralized." With a mark, he indicated as he spoke. "There are two guards at the front of the house, here and here, one at the back and on the east side."

"We better move, before they discover that you've escaped," Tony remarked, wondering why they hadn't already.

"Oh, they're kinda busy right now," O'Neill said, ignoring the quizzical looks to that exclamation. "But you're right, we've got to move. Carter, you and Daniel move around the back all the way to the other side and take this one out," O'Neill pointed at the guard located on the east side of the house fully trusting them to get the job done, then looked up at DiNozzo as he tapped on the guard's location at the back of the house, "You can handle this one alone?"

Tony nodded in confidence.

"Good. You kids get going. Take them out, secure the area and don't let anybody slip past you."

"Give us ten, Sir," Carter replied with a sharp nod as she turned, preparing to leave. The three of them headed off in a northern direction, Carter whispering a few more instructions to DiNozzo as they went.

"All right," Jack continued when they were out of sight. He tilted his head and glanced at McGee and Kate. "You two seal off this side. If one of you takes up position here you can keep an eye on the front as well. Don't let anybody pass."

"And you will be?" Kate had to ask, looking from O'Neill to Gibbs.

Gibbs smiled purposefully at her. "We're going in. Let's get those dirtbags."

---oo---oo---


	26. Mopping up, or?

_**A/N's:** thanks again for Lynette, who was kind enough to beta this! _

* * *

**THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY, IN THE KITCHEN **

Steven Robbs, Maria Wood and Robin Baynes, another member of this part of the NID rogue group, were desperately trying to stem the water flow that was steadily and rapidly turning the property's big kitchen into a swimming pool.

While Maria used a mop and a brush to sweep the water out of the door onto the porch, Steven and Robin were breaking their way through the cabinet in search of the hole in the water-pipe.

"Who did the freaking plumbing in this house anyway," Steven grumbled as he threw pots and pans out of his way. Crawling on his hands and knees to get to the source of the leak had gotten him soaking wet. In his rush he'd already cut his left hand on some kitchen tools he'd pushed away and he'd hit his head against the counter when he'd slipped, crouching down in the water.

"Stop complaining and find that damn hole," his girlfriend hissed. Sweeping the water outside was a tiring job. Her arms and shoulders were already complaining from the constant movement and it was nearly impossible to wipe it all out faster than it was gushing inside.

"We should call for somebody," Robin muttered, as he broke off a part of the cabinet to get closer to where the water was coming from. There was hardly any room for the both of them to get to source of the water-flow, so it was hard for him to reach past Steven and help.

"And draw everyone's attention to the house?" Maria snarled. "So not going to happen."

"You should have paid more attention to the maintenance," Robin responded angrily.

"And maybe you should keep your mouth shut," Maria snapped.

Steven, meanwhile, was finally getting closer to the leak and cursed when he realized it would have been much quicker if he'd approached the area from the room behind the wall. "Damn," he cursed. Unwilling to get up and go around he just reached for the sledgehammer and slammed a hole in the wall.

"What's taking Harm so long to shut the water off?" Robin wondered as he passed the necessary tools to Steven. Making the repairs to the pipe would be much easier if the main water flow was shut down.

Steven cursed under his breath and worked, desperate to stem the flow. He'd been wondering about Harm himself, but it really was the least of his problems. He was soaking wet, the water kept pouring out of the hole at a force that made his hands slip every time he tried to put something over the gap, his headache was slowly reaching the point where he couldn't ignore it any longer and his annoyance had already reached a level of serious frustration.

He should have gone to work that morning.

---oo---oo---

**THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY, AT THE BACK OF THE HOUSE **

Tony DiNozzo was situated behind a bush at the back of the house. He estimated that Major Carter and Daniel would have reached their destination by now and studied the movements of the guard that was walking up and down the path, trying to figure out the best way to approach.

The guard was a tall man, who had dark brown hair and eyebrows just as dark. Those eyebrows, together with the hard lines of the face and the thin, faint lips gave his countenance a brutal expression.

Tony briefly wondered why the bad guys always looked bad as well. At least, they did, as soon as you knew they were as Gibbs would call them, dirtbags. It must be a trick of the mind, he figured, as if the brain tried to justify the conclusion of the evidence at hand. A bit similar to the old western movies, where the good guys wore white cowboy hats and the bad guys black.

Of course, there were exceptions to the rule. He remembered many cases where the a person's looks fooled him, although in the end, they **all **looked bad. And, being totally honest, most of the times he was fooled, it were women. There was just something about evil women that didn't fit for him. Women shouldn't be bad. They should be loving, caring, sexy if they were the right age, or even like sweet old grandmas handing out chocolate bars.

He couldn't help grinning thinking back briefly to his own grandma. He loved her dearly, but there had been nothing sweet about her. Old, yes, but sweet? She would slap his hand every time she caught him trying to taste the pizza she was preparing. She would grab him by the ear and drag him out of the kitchen when he was unable to resist the delicious smell of her famous pasta sauce. She certainly and seriously kicked his butt when he was peeking at the neighbor's teenage daughter getting dressed, through her bedroom window, from a pile of boxes and branches he'd stuck together, at the age of what, eight or nine?

Shaking his head to clear the train of thought from his mind, Tony fixed his eyes on his target. This was definitely a bad guy and he was so going to take him out.

Waiting for the right moment, Tony did a Gibbs impression of sneaking up on the guy and simply tapped him on the shoulder.

Surprised for a split second the man made the mistake of glancing sideways before responding but then it was already too late. Tony smirked as he knocked the wind out of the guy, caught him as he fell and dragged him behind the bush. As he placed the handcuffs around the unconscious man's wrist, Tony smiled. His actions had been quick, fluid and successful. He imagined it even would have impressed Steven Seagal.

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE AT THE EAST SIDE OF THE TOBIAS PROPERTY**

"Uh, Sam..." Daniel started with a soft voice, alerting his teammate.

"Yeah," she acknowledged as she stopped. "Looks like they have a problem..."

They had just arrived at the west side of the house, where they were supposed to take out the guard and they had found a good hiding spot to observe the area. Sam had already located the guard, but what had really caught her attention was what was happening at the house itself.

The door on the porch was open and now and then a silhouette appeared with a mop. She obviously was brushing a serious amount of water outside.

"That's a bit overdone for cleaning the floor," Daniel remarked as he watched how another flow of water ran down the porch onto the grass. "You think Jack's got something to do with it?"

Carter glanced sideways, frowning. It was in fact a perfect distraction. "It's possible," she concluded.

Daniel thought about it, then nodded, "Way to go, Jack!"

"We're going to have to change plans, though," Carter whispered. "We can't take out that guard now. They will see that."

"So now what?" Daniel asked the obvious, then looked up as some movement close to the house caught his attention. "Err, Sam..." he said as he knelt even closer to the ground so stay out of sight.

"I see him," she hissed. Another guard came walking around the corner of the house, greeting his colleague with a sharp wave of the hand as he took up another position.

Carter observed the guards, secretly hoping one of them would leave. They obviously had no intention of leaving though. The first one lit a cigarette while the second one walked up and down the path.

"We'll have to wait. Hopefully somebody manages to shut off the water. I'll get closer to him," she pointed to the second guard, "while you stay here. On my mark, you take him down. Can you do that?"

Daniel threw her a look. He was an archeologist. A linguist. Trained by Jack O'Neill himself in basic hand combat, handling weapons like knives and guns and other military stuff that Jack thought to be important. Of course he could. So he gave her a thumbs up. "Good luck," he whispered and watched her leave.

---oo---oo---

**THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY, THE FRONT YARD **

Special Agent Kate Todd was worried.

Although she could understand Colonel O'Neill's reasoning, she really didn't like the fact that both he and Gibbs, neither of them a hundred percent fit, were going in. Sure, they were tough. Not like the macho kind of guys who just acted that way, she'd seen them all before, more bravado than true courage. Those guys were just clever in using their image and in taking advantage of their power to pretend they were tough, but she could easily see through that. No, the real tough ones didn't act on it deliberately, not to make an impression, if anything they even downplayed their own abilities. She knew Gibbs, and she liked to think she'd been able to understand what Colonel O'Neill was made of by reading his file. He was an interesting non-standard subject to profile and she imagined the character of Colonel O'Neill had been the subject of many psychological studies within the Air Force alone.

Yet, they were both injured. Colonel O'Neill's hand needed treatment, and from the looks of it, that was not all they had done to him. And Gibbs? Well, he could pretend that he was all right, but she knew better. The gunshot wound to his shoulder wasn't healing the way it was supposed to; she could see it in the way he moved, or rather how he unconsciously kept the arm stiffly pressed to his chest. She could also see it in his eyes. She'd always had the ability to read people through their eyes. Gibbs' eyes were no different. She could tell when he was furious, well, not that he tried to hide that --his voice usually was a dead give-away-- but still. She could tell when he was hurting, emotionally, although she had no clue about the reasons behind that hurt, and she could tell when he was in physical pain. He didn't show it, he never did, but she knew. His eyes told her that much. She'd also seen a glistering in his eyes when she was sitting across from him in the chopper, telling her he was running at least a low-grade fever. Their next stop was going to be Bethesda.

First things first, though.

The house was surrounded and if everything went according to plan, nobody would get away.

McGee had taken up his position in front of the house while she covered the east-side. She couldn't actually see Tim, but she knew where he was.

Kate glanced at her watch. Tony, Major Carter and Daniel had been gone fifteen minutes, O'Neill and Gibbs about five. The guards on the other side would have been neutralized by now. It shouldn't be long before everybody would come out and they could all go home.

At her side of the house, nothing specific was happening. Nobody came running around the corner, nobody tried to escape through the only two windows located on the second floor. Her part of the plan turned out to be pretty boring.

A slight movement far to her left caught her eye. Just as she turned her head to glance in the general direction, she saw a flash of a blue electrical discharge, right where she knew McGee had been hiding.

She cursed inwardly, realizing McGee must have been hit by the same kind of stun gun that had taken Gibbs out in his basement when they had kidnapped O'Neill.

She saw somebody running, head down, away from the house. Weapon drawn, she jumped up and quickly ran after him. The guy had quite a head-start, but she had to try. He was still too far to take a good shot at, so she sprinted as fast as she could to get closer.

Kate was a good runner. She practiced every day to keep in shape. She was gaining, running past trees, jumping through and around bushes that were blocking her way. The man apparently realized she was chasing him as he was picking up the pace as well before he disappeared into an area with more trees growing close together.

Kate had to slow down and take precaution. She needed to catch the guy and wouldn't manage that by acting stupid and getting herself shot. She picked another spot to dash through the trees when she suddenly heard an engine start.

A dark blue sedan appeared thirty or forty yards ahead of her, speeding away, in the direction of the main road.

Pointing her weapon at the back of the car she realized it was no use. "Shit!" she cried out, shaking her head in anger.

Knowing there was nothing she could do about it now, Kate lowered her weapon, put the safety back on and turned to get back and check on McGee, all the while shaking her head in frustration.

Gibbs was going to be pissed.

---oo---oo---


	27. Cleaning up at last

**INSIDE THE HOUSE**

Colonel Jack O'Neill and Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs quietly entered the house. Jack took point, knowing the way, and led them towards the family room. He positioned himself at the left side of the door, quickly shifting his head to glance inside. He waited until Jethro was ready as well and pressed his gun against his body with his left elbow while he used the now free right hand to signal that there were two people inside the room.

Gibbs nodded in understanding.

Jack took the gun back into his hand, then mouthed the countdown. 'Three - two - one'.

Swinging open the door, he quickly stepped inside and moved to his right. Jethro followed, and took position on the left side of the door. Jack said, "Hands up, nice and easy, boys."

One of the two people in the room was too surprised to respond and just raised his hands above his head. The other was much quicker and just rolled.

Gibbs fired but missed as the suspect disappeared behind the couch.

The man with his hands raised glanced down and attempted to move.

"Ack!" Jack warned and the man stilled.

Gibbs moved further to the left, in an attempt to get a clear shot. "NCIS. You've got nowhere to go," he called out.

An unaimed shot in his general direction was the only answer he got. Reacting on impulse, Jethro ducked, but the bullet hit the wall high above his position.

Sounds coming from the hallway told him more people were approaching. Glancing at O'Neill, Gibbs knew that the Colonel had heard it as well. They had to move, and had to move fast. Normally, he would have rolled sideways and fired upon getting up, but with his shoulder, that wasn't an option so he quietly started changing his position in order to get a clear shot at the suspect behind the couch.

O'Neill responded in his own way to the approaching threat by jumping forward as he swiftly turned the gun around in his hand. He raised his arm and slammed the butt of the gun against the standing man's head, then moved out of the way of the shot that was fired from behind the couch.

Gibbs vaguely registered the man crumbling to the floor and quickly took advantage of the commotion that diverted the other suspect's attention by diving forward and knocking the man out before he realized what had hit him.

His shoulder didn't appreciate the abuse he'd put it through but there was no time for Jethro to recover. Rolling off the body of the man he'd knocked unconscious, he tried to get a clear shot at the door. Shots were being fired through the door already and he was in the same position as the prone man had been. It was impossible to aim properly without popping his head around the couch.

Jack had found a better position to fire. He stood behind an oak storage cabinet and used a mirror on the wall across from it to see what he was firing at, managing well in making it hard for the newly arrived suspects to enter the room.

Jethro quickly scanned the room. He had to get away from his current position, it brought him no advantage. Deciding he was better off at another spot in the room he didn't hesitate and moved, firing a few shots at the door until he'd found cover again.

Things went fast after that.

Two men rolled inside. Shots were fired. Both Jack and Jethro returned fire. Jethro had to duck out of the way a few times, barely noticing another person had entered as well. It was a woman and she ducked behind the couch.

Jack managed to take one man out with a well-aimed shot. The man yelped and grasped his arm as his weapon dropped to the floor, then slid down to the floor.

"Give it up!" Jack yelled at the other two. "We've got the house surrounded, you've got nowhere to go."

Jethro thought about adding something to that statement when a familiar voice from the hallway reached them."NCIS! Show's over, people. You're sealed off, boxed in and SO in trouble."

Gibbs grinned at Tony's announcement and stepped forward, weapon still pointed at the man he recognized from the investigation. It was Robbs. Robbs was seriously wondering what to do with the situation. He'd already lowered his weapon as he glanced from his buddy with the bleeding arm on the floor to the cupboard where Jack was standing. "Put it down," Gibbs encouraged him sharply.

"You too," Tony motioned as he came in, keeping his weapon trained at the woman still kneeling on that side of the couch. A click followed by a soft thud told Gibbs she'd given in by putting the safety back on then dropping the gun to the floor. Her hands appeared first, then she got up.

Tony was quick to move and put handcuffs around Steven Robbs' wrists first, then took out another pair and used them on Maria Wood.

O'Neill stood close to the one with the bleeding arm. "You bastard," he spat. "Now where's that package?"

Baynes, shivering from the cold from his previous encounter with the water in the kitchen and from blood-loss due to the bullet wound in his arm, stared at the tall man standing over him. He knew this was the person they'd held captive, but he hadn't met the man himself. "I have no idea," he stammered.

O'Neill's dark eyes locked on his for a brief moment, then shifted to the woman.

Maria glared back, anger and frustration evident in her features.

Gibbs knew she wasn't going to tell him straightaway, if she even knew about the package. He'd love to get her in the interrogation room, he would eventually get her to talk.

Footsteps coming from the hall alerted him and he glanced at the door. He saw Tony tense as well, but Gibbs relaxed as he recognized the rhythm of the steps.

It was Kate and she didn't look pleased.

"Special Agent Todd," O'Neill asked sharply before Gibbs could. "Status?"

"We're secure," Kate said, glancing in Gibbs' direction as if she wanted to get his permission to speak up. "Major Carter and Dr. Jackson are guarding five people," she pointed with her thumb in the general direction "back at the house. Major Carter has called in another team to take over."

"And?" Gibbs asked shortly.

"McGee was hit," she said, "and one of the suspects got away. He had a get-away car hidden back at the main entrance. I got there too late."

Ignoring the curses coming from O'Neill, Gibbs wanted more information. "McGee?"

"Is going to be fine, Gibbs," Kate reassured him. "He was hit by the same kind of stun gun that got you in your basement."

"Get these three out there with the others," Gibbs ordered, then glanced at Jack. "We got them all now?"

"All but one," Jack replied angrily. "Bet that's exactly the one I wanted."

---oo---oo---

**OUTSIDE THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY**

Major Carter knew what she was doing.

She had taken out two suspects, had kept an eye on Daniel, and had watch him take out another suspect as well. She'd secured that side of the house and was quick to respond when another unexpected guest arrived. She'd taken him before he even realized something was amiss.

She'd sent Daniel to check if everything was going according to plan at the back of the house with special agent DiNozzo while she moved over to the front.

Although she was too late to stop the man that was rushing away, she took out another one who came running from the house, then moved quickly to help Special Agent McGee back to his feet. When she knew they were secure on this side as well, she used her radio to order Daniel to keep an eye out at the backyard, and told him to send Special Agent DiNozzo inside the house to see if the colonel and Special Agent Gibbs needed his assistance. Next, Carter called in the backup team, ordering them to spread around the house and secure the perimeter.

With McGee, who was still a bit shaky after being zatted, and Todd, she made sure all suspects were well tied up. Trusting the colonel would manage to get the rest out of the house, she waited, while Special Agent Todd went inside to see how things were going.

She didn't have to wait very long. Three people came outside, two of them with their hands bound behind their backs and one holding a bandage over his right upper arm, accompanied by DiNozzo and Todd. Gibbs and O'Neill followed.

"Major," the Colonel started.

"Everything is under control, Colonel," Sam replied with a quick motion of her head in the direction of the people they had secured.

"I know. Good job, Major. The one that got away?"

"I didn't get a good look at him, Sir," she apologized. "Special Agent Todd did get a look at the vehicle and its license plate. We've already passed that information to NCIS."

"To Abby?" Gibbs wanted to know. He quickly glanced at McGee to make sure the young man was all right.

Carter nodded.

"Then there's already a BOLO out on that car," Jethro replied, turning to Jack. "She'll have every available satellite looking for it. She'll use the footage of traffic light cameras... anything she can think of. We'll get him."

Jack didn't look convinced. He studied each and every one of the prisoners closely, but the one he really wanted wasn't there.

"The package, Sir?" Carter asked.

"Bet the bastard has it," O'Neill answered ruefully.

Sam nodded. "I'll instruct the back-up team to look for it anyway when they search the property."

"NCIS can help," Gibbs offered.

"Not this time, Jethro," Jack replied. Beside the zat guns, this NID rogue group could have stolen more alien artifacts, either off-world or from Area 51 and he couldn't risk NCIS stumbling upon any. "We'll handle it." With a curt nod in Carter's direction, he implicitly gave her the order to take over command of the clean-up.

Gibbs glanced at him. He didn't particularly enjoy being shoved aside, but something in O'Neill's eyes told him this was not the time to negotiate so he relented.

"Let's get you two back to Bethesda," Kate said. "That hand needs medical attention," she switched her attention from O'Neill to Gibbs, "and I'm guessing so does your shoulder."

"We're going back to NCIS," Gibbs grunted.

"Sounds good to me," O'Neill agreed.

"Jack..." Daniel joined in, pointing at O'Neill's hand. "Janet is going to be pissed if you leave that unattended."

"Ducky can look at it," Gibbs decided, his voice making it clear he wouldn't take no for an answer. "If Ducky says we need to go to Bethesda, we'll go."

With that decision made, Gibbs simply didn't wait for an answer and started making his way back over to where they'd left the chopper earlier that afternoon.

O'Neill followed, fully trusting his team to handle the follow-up with the backup team.

---oo---oo---

**SOMEWHERE DOWN A ROAD IN MARYLAND**

Colonel Simmons ditched the runaway car and quickly ran to the limousine waiting for him on the other side of the street.

Package in his hand, he opened the door to the rear seat and got in.

An older man with short white-grayish hair sat on the black leather seat. The man was wearing a black suit, a white shirt and a matching black-and-white tie. An Australian Shepherd was lying at his feet. "What went wrong?"

"O'Neill got away. NCIS and O'Neill's team are taking over the house," Simmons summarized with chagrin.

"I told you not to underestimate O'Neill," the older man barked angrily.

"He was tied up, we worked him over pretty bad, the fingers of his left hand broken..." Simmons started to apologize.

"And you thought that was going to stop him?" the older man sneered. "The bastard crawled for nine days through the desert with a skull fracture, a busted leg and God knows how many broken ribs. A few broken fingers probably just pissed him off, you idiot!"

The dog, alerted by the sound of the voice of his boss, lifted its head. A short and sharp "Down, Oscar," made it lie down again.

"Yeah, well. At least we know who we're dealing with," Simmons replied.

"If you'd listened better, you'd already known that. Didn't Harry warn you? You think you are that good?"

"We'll get him," Simmons said. "All in good time."

"Is that the package?" the older man asked, pointing at the container Simmons was holding.

The colonel nodded.

"The code?"

Simmons just shook his head.

"So we don't know what evidence Robert Makepeace has gathered?"

Simmons looked up. "No. But neither does the SGC. I'm opening it right now," with that comment, he broke the seal without punching in the code and watched how the content was ruined by a clear fluid coming from a vial inside the package. "Nobody but that SOB in prison knows what's inside here. Now we just have to make sure our old friend Robert doesn't get out of prison and all is safe."

The older man just glared at Simmons. "You better make sure of that. And you damn well better remind yourself of today, and of how you were stupid enough to let that bastard get away. And make sure it doesn't happen again or I'll be looking for your replacement."

"Well," Simmons said, not really intimidated by the older man's threats. "Maybe you should remind yourself who is funding your campaign. The Committee has more options besides you. Don't you forget about that. This isn't over. We **will **take over the SGC. If not today, then there's always tomorrow. You just have to be patient."

The old senator looked into Simmons' determined eyes. If the Committee wanted to take over the SGC, they had to get by O'Neill first, and General Hammond next. Hammond could easily be controlled, the man figured, but O'Neill was a rough SOB known to never give up. Then again, neither was Simmons. It was going to be an interesting fight. He just hoped he'd picked the right horse.

---oo---oo---

_**Author's notes:** Well, you HAD figured out it was Simmons pulling the strings, did you? And if you did, you knew I couldn't let Jack catch him yet. Remember this is end of season three, Jack hasn't met him face-to-face (except for the masks, EG) around this time.... So yeah, the bastard got away. Don't you hate it when that happens?_


	28. A warm gothic welcomehome

**THE ELEVATOR, BULLPEN, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Their return to NCIS headquarters was one that Colonel Jack O'Neill wasn't ever going to forget. Although he was special ops trained and ready to expect anything, nothing could have prepared him for what happened the moment the doors of the elevator opened.

Abby, NCIS' forensic analyst, came spurting forward with a speed he wouldn't have thought possible on those kind of shoes.

"Colonel Jack, Colonel Jack, you're back! You're here! You're safe!" She'd taken some precaution, mindful for his injured hand, but nonetheless wrapped herself around the stunned colonel, hugging him tightly and rambling non-stop. "I was so worried! But you're okay. Well, not okay, but sort of okay." She shortly let go of him, stepped back to take a serious look at the colonel's face then her gaze fell on the bandaged left hand. "You are okay, aren't you? Oh, my. They broke your fingers. Of course you're not okay..." And she hugged him again. "But you are safe now..."

"Abs!" Gibbs warned. "Let the colonel breathe."

Blushing slightly as she realized she was hugging somebody she had only just met, Abby let the man go, then threw a quick look at Gibbs before throwing herself at him. "Gibbs! Are you okay, you don't look so good. I was so worried!"

"Abby!" he tried to call out from underneath one of her ponytails.

"Gibbs, I'm just glad you're back. You could have been shot again inside that house! But you're here. You look exhausted, Gibbs. And... you're so hot," she commented, frowning suddenly, then let go of him. The surprised look quickly vanished and was replaced by shock as she looked him in the eye, totally unaware of the amused glances thrown at her by O'Neill.

"I mean," she started stumbling as if apologizing. "Not that kind of hot. Well, you **are** hot, with the grey hair and all of course, but I wouldn't say that out loud like that. I think," she looked doubtful. "Would I?"

Gibbs looked at her, surprised but with a faint smile around his lips.

The lab-girl reached a hand forward, placing the back of it against his cheekbone. "You're hot. As in feverish," she explained. "And Ducky is waiting for you. You should probably go down there."

"As soon as you let us go, Abby," Gibbs replied patiently. He'd pressed the button for autopsy, but apparently Abby had known they were coming and had pressed the button as well, so it would stop for her first.

"Oh," she said, looking at him in surprise. "Sorry about that." She motioned for the door and let them get back in the elevator. "You want me to come with you?"

Gibbs gave her a short shake of the head. "Back to work, Abs."

"Of course," she nodded, turned and took three steps into the bullpen. The doors of the elevator were closing but O'Neill and Gibbs still witnessed her sharply turning around again as she muttered in surprise, "I'm on the wrong floor."

-oo-oo-

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Dr. Donald Mallard had nothing to do but wait. There were currently no bodies for him to work on and Jimmy Palmer had already cleaned the empty autopsy tables for the day.

He had sent Mr. Palmer home. It was getting late, and there was no reason to keep the younger man on hand that evening.

He'd been briefed by Abby, so he knew the team had managed to get Colonel O'Neill out and although he knew about the broken fingers, he somehow expected Gibbs and O'Neill to come to him before anybody could convince them to go to Bethesda. Which meant he couldn't go home.

It didn't take long before the doors to his lab opened and he smiled in relief at the sight of the visitors. Knowing they were in one piece was one thing, but Ducky preferred to be visually convinced.

"There you are, Jethro," he started, then glanced up at the tall Air Force colonel. "It is good to have you back, Colonel."

O'Neill grinned. "Didn't like their hospitality, Ducky."

"Can you check the colonel out, Duck?" Jethro asked, pointing at O'Neill.

Stepping forward, the ME nodded. "Yes, of course, Jethro," but before turning his attention to the colonel, he visually inspected his friend. He took note of his friend's pale complexion, the slumped shoulders and the obvious exhaustion. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable in the meantime. You look like you need some rest."

Gibbs gave a tired nod, hopped on one of the tables and lay down. With all adrenaline vanished from his system, he'd noticed how exhausted he really was and it wasn't hard at all to close his eyes.

Ducky headed for his desk, got a blanket out of the drawer and went over to the autopsy table, covering his friend with it, then switched off the lights above. Turning, he now approached Colonel O'Neill and motioned for another table. "If you would be so kind."

Jack placed a hip on the table then shuffled backwards, his injured left hand resting in his lap.

"All right," Ducky said after rinsing his hands and giving the Air Force colonel a thorough visual examination. "Bruises and lacerations on your face, the fingers of your left hand... what else are we looking at?"

With his good hand, Jack touched his chest. "Ribs. Not broken, though."

"Hmm," Ducky replied. "Guess you've been there enough to know. If you don't mind, I do like to take some X-rays to make sure, though."

"Knock yourself out, Ducky. I know Janet would."

"Oh, yes, the lovely Doctor Janet Fraiser," Ducky mumbled, while he took out an ice-pack from one of the coolers. He returned to O'Neill's side and carefully placed it around the injured hand, then grabbed a cloth and started cleaning O'Neill's face. "I had a nice, long conversation with her earlier today. She is really a lovely lady," he dabbed at some dried patches of blood, in order to get a better look at the cuts and bruises. O'Neill flinched under his touch and he apologized, "Sorry about that. In fact, she had already predicted you would come here instead of going to the hospital. Guess she knows you really well."

Jack grinned, then grimaced as the other man cleaned another tender spot in his face.

"This requires sutures, I'm afraid," Ducky concluded when he was done. "Doctor Fraiser has also given me a few tips in case you would prove to be..."

"Difficult?" O'Neill filled in.

"Well, I was looking for a more elegant way to describe that, but yes," Ducky nodded. "The things she told me were quite interesting, I must say. I tend to simply administer a light sedative... I must confess I'm known for having spiked Jethro's coffee on more than one occasion but your doctor strongly advised against it." The medical examiner noted the small sigh of relief coming from O'Neill. "You respond badly to it, I presume?"

Jack gave a slight nod. "There's that..." he didn't elaborate on that any further, "and then there's the whole thing of waking up, which can be dangerous."

"Cardiac arrhythmia, respiratory distress, allergic reactions?"

"I meant to anybody within arm's reach, Ducky," O'Neill said with an apologetic shrug.

Ducky looked at him, eyes wide as what the colonel was actually saying sunk in. "I see. I shall not take such desperate measures then," he replied, batting an eye at the man. "I'm far too old for a sudden nosedive to remain out of your clutches." He stepped aside, opened a cupboard and took out a glass and a bottle, opened the bottle and poured an amount in the glass. Setting the bottle aside, he offered the glass to O'Neill. "Old-fashioned, but quite effective."

O'Neill grinned as he glanced first at the bottle of whiskey, then at the glass. He took it from the medical examiner and sipped. "That wasn't one of the tips you got from Fraiser," he commented dryly.

"No, it was not," Ducky admitted. "But since most of my patients don't require medication or sedation, I only have the bare minimum of supplies here. I usually need to only do quick patching-up jobs for agents with no time to go to Bethesda."

"Or those who refuse to go," Jack replied in understanding, glancing at Jethro sleeping on an autopsy table.

Ducky followed his gaze, and smiled briefly. He'd laid out the equipment he needed and had put a thread in a needle he'd just disinfected. He wasted no more time and started closing the cut on the colonel's face with precision and care. Stepping back to admire his work, he then nodded and finished it with a butterfly strip.

"Now, let's see the hand, shall we?" Ducky moved to get the portable X-ray machine and motioned for O'Neill to remove the ice-pack. The X-ray taken, he first visually inspected the swollen, misshaped fingers, then went to put the photos on the light board for a closer look.

Colonel O'Neill slid off the table, kept his injured hand close to his chest and walked over to the wall to take a look at the photos himself.

"It doesn't look that bad," Ducky mumbled, looking at the fractures. "You won't need surgery, I don't think we need K-wires and these two," he pointed at the little finger and the middle finger, "are stable fractures... They will heal properly with splinting only."

"The other two?" O'Neill asked, stepping closer to take a good look at the visible fractures of his own hand.

"I'll have to reduce them. Then I'll immobilize your hand. I'm positive they'll heal properly."

"Let's do it already," O'Neill said, wasting no more time and headed back to the table.

Ducky glanced once more at the two fractures, then nodded and approached O'Neill. "You might want to finish that first," he indicated at the whiskey remaining in the glass.

O'Neill downed the alcohol, then simply held out his hand.

Ducky took the index finger first with one hand while he grabbed O'Neill's wrist with the other. He tried to block out the hisses of pain coming from his patient and quickly pulled the bones back in alignment. Figuring getting it over with was the best he could do for the other man he immediately took O'Neill's ring finger and reduced it with one sharp pull.

Giving O'Neill some time to recover his bearings, he refilled the now empty glass then took out another glass and downed that himself. "How are you doing?" he asked after a little while.

"Oh, I'm just peachy," the colonel gritted as he looked at Ducky with blurry, pain-filled eyes. The piercing agony that he'd felt when Ducky pulled at his fingers was slowly settling down to a throbbing pain that he was able to contain and the nauseous feeling was slowly fading. With a hand still trembling a bit from what he'd endured, he picked up the glass and allowed himself another sip, the burning sensation of the alcohol going down his throat distracting him from his aching hand.

"So did you manage to get the package Lieutenant Makepeace had sealed with a code?" Ducky asked. He gathered a few popsicle sticks and gauze. With precision, he started splinting and wrapping the hand, immobilizing each finger until he was satisfied the colonel was unable to either stretch or bend them.

"Nope," O'Neill informed the ME. "Carter is searching the house, but I don't expect her to find it. At least one of the bad guys got away, and he probably had the package."

"But it will be of no use to them, since it was locked by our clever lieutenant, will it?"

"No, it won't."

"Good," Ducky replied. "At least the poor young man has achieved that, then." He reached for the X-ray machine again and made some adjustments. "I'd like to take a look at your chest now. Do you need help getting undressed?"

O'Neill was already fidgeting. Opening the buttons of his shirt with one hand proved to be a challenge and soon he allowed Ducky to help him. Upon seeing the colonel's bare chest, Ducky tutted and started prodding, touching the clearly bruised areas carefully. His fingers expertly ran over O'Neill's ribcage, as he examined each rib from the lowest one all the way up, then down along the other side. He didn't feel any bones give where they shouldn't, but asked, "How does this feel?"

O'Neill hissed a bit and flinched but other than that sat perfectly still. "Sore," he replied simply.

"That I believe, without a doubt," Ducky replied. "Nothing seems to be broken, though."

"Told you so," O'Neill responded, a little out of breath.

Ducky moved around the table and now continued his examination by prodding along the colonel's back. While doing that, his gaze was drawn to an unusual reddish scarring, right at the base of O'Neill's neck. It wasn't a fresh wound, maybe a couple of months old, but it looked as if it had never healed properly and he had to wonder what could have caused such an injury. Knowing more than bits and pieces from Kate's profile on the colonel, the older man decided not to ask any questions and finished his hands-on examination.

"All right, let's get some X-rays and then I shall leave you alone," he said before turning the machine on.

O'Neill remained quiet throughout the procedure and silently let the medical examiner help him getting his clothes back on. The X-rays showed no real damage to O'Neill's ribcage, a sling was applied to let the injured hand rest and then Dr. Mallard seemed to be satisfied. "Why don't you get comfortable and rest," he said, indicating for the Colonel to either lie down on the table or take one of the chairs. Glancing over his shoulder, Ducky continued, "then I will go and wake up the bear."

-00-00-


	29. Ducky is busy

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

"Jethro... Jethro?"

The voice sounded far and far away. It was a familiar voice, of somebody he knew, but his sluggish mind was unable to put a name or face to it. The waking up process was slow and painful, his head pounding and his body aching in various places. He was lying on something hard, something cold and it wasn't very comfortable.

"Jethro? I do wish you would wake up now."

The voice was still there, calling for him insistently, pulling him out of his sleep. He tried shifting, but found it hard to as his muscles were stiff and sore. He heard a soft, weak moan, it came from somewhere close. Was it him?

"That's it, Jethro. Open your eyes."

"Duck?" his voice was a mere whisper, his throat dry and rough.

"Yes, Jethro. There you are."

Deciding against moving since he felt incredibly weak and shaky, Gibbs cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry but after blinking a few times and concentrating on the silhouette leaning over him, Jethro finally recognized his old friend. Ducky was glancing at him with a concerned frown.

"What?" he asked tiredly. His eyelids were getting heavy and he closed them again. Maybe Ducky would let him sleep some more.

He felt a grip on his arm, giving him a little shake, followed by another firm, "Jethro!"

"Huh?" He was startled by Ducky's voice, opened his eyes but couldn't make out a thing. Everything was just one big, giant blur. He made no effort to blink this time. The cool surface he was lying on gave him the chills and he shivered. "Cold, Duck," he mumbled with a dry, cracked voice.

A warm hand brushed his forehead. "I know. Allow me to take your temperature."

Gibbs tried to nod but his head just lolled sideways. He felt something cold enter his ear, heard a beep and then some strange sound that might have been a sharp hiss. Rolling his eyes, he tried to find Ducky's silhouette again, but the sudden movement made him feel nauseous. "m-okay, Duck," he sluggishly tried to reassure his friend.

"No, my friend, you are not," Ducky told him. "You have a fever of 103.4. I am afraid your shoulder has gotten infected."

His shoulder? What was wrong with his shoulder? His memory had giant gaps in there as he couldn't remember.

"Ari!" Gibbs bolted upright, eyes wide open, his face twisted in anger.

"No, Jethro!" Strong hands grabbed him as he started swaying, a sudden bout of dizziness overwhelming his senses. Sharp stabs of pain were shooting through his chest, shoulders and arms, mostly on his right side.

"Not Ari, Jethro. That was months ago, remember?" Ducky's voice sounded urgent. "Easy now, Jethro. Let's get you down."

The hands were steadying him, guiding him as he slowly relaxed, wavered and collapsed with a deep sigh. One hand behind his head made sure he didn't fall down too hard. "O-kay," he panted.

"Are you with me, Jethro?" Ducky asked, the worry sounding through in his voice.

Although the exhaustion was weighing like a heavy blanket on his body, Gibbs forced his eyes to open once more and managed a faint nod that made his headache spike.

The hand that had been underneath his head slowly pulled away, then something soft and cold touched his heated brow, wiping away the drops of sweat he felt slowly rolling down his face. He welcomed the coolness, despite he'd been shivering from the cold. Awareness slowly returned and he now remembered the shooting in the warehouse, the kidnapping of O'Neill and their return to NCIS.

"Try to relax, Jethro," Ducky advised. "I shall take a look at your shoulder now."

Hands started unbuttoning his shirt and unconsciously he wanted to assist and lifted his left arm, but it was gently pushed down.

"I can do that. You just rest," Ducky told him.

He really wanted to help, he really did. He'd always hated to depend on others. His body however was slow in responding, his muscles stiff and aching, so Gibbs gave in and let his old friend do the job.

The cold air that brushed his bare chest the moment his shirt was softly pushed sideways made him shiver again. Then he felt Ducky fidgeting with the bandages and he gritted his teeth as Ducky slowly peeled them away.

"Oh, dear."

That didn't sound good, Gibbs realized. It didn't feel good, either. His attention now solemnly directed at the injured area, he felt the pulsing of his own heartbeat in his shoulder, while hot agony flared in his chest, all the way up to his neck. The nauseous feeling returned and he started swallowing as he closed his eyes.

"Jethro... Jethro!"

Gibbs jerked to awareness and blinked blearily at Ducky's face hovering over him.

A strong arm was pushed under his neck and supported him, gently lifting his head. "I need you to drink this, Jethro."

Wearily, Gibbs looked at the glass approaching his mouth and sipped, the cool water doing wonders for his parched throat. Ducky carefully maneuvered the glass, so he could only drink a little bit at the time and gently lowered his head once it was empty.

"Now, my dear fellow," Ducky explained, "there's an infection running rampant and it is building up pressure underneath your stitches. I'd rather have you transported to Bethesda..."

"Duck... please..." Gibbs pleaded, licking his lips.

"Or I can re-open your wound and try to clear out the infection now. I have to warn you, it won't be pleasant. And it might not be enough... then you will have no choice than to go to the hospital after all."

Gibbs blinked a few times as he digested the information then searched his friend's face. "Trust you, Duck."

"Very well," Mallard replied. "I have given you as much pain medication as I dare..."

Gibbs frowned. "Tasted like water."

The ME grinned at him, then glanced at the injured right shoulder, patted his good arm in a comforting manner and replied, "now I shall proceed."

Gibbs closed his eyes and tried to block out the anxious feeling that was slowly getting a grip on him. When something, probably a scalpel, touched his wound, snapping the stitches open, white, hot agony struck him and Gibbs' eyes shot wide open. He gasped, clenched his fists, shuddered and jerked, then all went mercifully black.

-oo-oo-

**THE TOBIAS FAMILY PROPERTY**

Major Carter had instructed everybody well. The whole house was thoroughly searched. A few items stolen from Area 51 turned up, which they could wrap up and send back.

The members of the NID rogue group had all been questioned, then transported to the SGC for further interrogation.

The name of the person that got away however remained unknown. Carter had tried to get Maria Woods to talk, but she had kept her mouth shut.

Steven Robbs had also been questioned, but he'd told them he was just Maria's boyfriend and helping her, but didn't know many people in the group.

Robin Baynes, the one with the bullet in his arm, was given basic medical attention before being questioned. They'd gotten a little rough on him and the man had cried pathetically, but hadn't been able to give them anything useful. He had, however, confirmed Robbs' story about not knowing many people.

All in all, they had caught a few of the bad guys, but hadn't been able to get to the ones holding the reins. They hadn't found Arthur Makepeace's package either.

Carter had been in contact with NCIS, and already knew Abby hadn't been successful in following the get-a-way car. There were only so many satellites out there and they didn't usually cover all parts of the country, so, Abby had explained, it would have been sheer luck if she had been able to follow the car all the way.

Having briefed General Hammond, Sam finished the clean-up, then arranged for transportation back to NCIS. They would have to get back to Cheyenne Mountain, but she wanted to properly say goodbye to Gibbs and his team.

-oo-oo-

**AUTOPSY LAB, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

"Errr, Ducky..." Tony DiNozzo had come through the sliding doors to autopsy and glanced from the deadly still figure on one of the autopsy tables to the one hovering close-by. "That doesn't look good, does it?"

Ducky had just finished inserting a needle into Gibbs' left hand and gathered some tape to keep it in place. An IV-bag was already in place, and as soon as he connected the tubing, a clear fluid came down through the tube, straight into the special agent's vein.

Pressing his fingers on Gibbs' wrist to take his pulse, Ducky paused and counted as he held up his other hand for Tony to keep quiet. When he was finished, he gently released Gibbs' arm then looked up at Tony before moving toward him. "Tony, my dear boy, please be quiet," he started, keeping his voice down since he didn't want to wake his patients.

DiNozzo glanced in O'Neill's direction and noticed the colonel was leaning back in a chair, his eyes closed, his injured left hand resting in a sling on his chest and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Giving a brief nod at the medical examiner, he glanced back at his boss then searched Ducky's gaze silently asking for more information.

"I'm afraid Jethro's shoulder is badly infected," the older man explained. "I had to re-open the wound and have cleaned it out thoroughly. It was not pleasant and luckily Jethro has lost consciousness, which spared him a great amount of pain."

"The boss is unconscious?" Tony asked in surprise. He'd never heard of that happening before let alone seen it with the exception of Gibbs passing out after the shooting at the warehouse.

"Yes, my dear boy. It is nothing for you to worry about." Ducky watched how the younger man was staring at Gibbs.

"He looks feverish," DiNozzo commented, taking in the chills that seemed to rack Gibbs' still frame.

"Yes, he does have a fever, over a 103 actually. But I am confident it will come down if we can keep the infection at bay. The fluids I am giving him are to prevent dehydration and I have added some pain medication and a strong antibiotic solution. It should work faster than the pills he's been taking."

"If he's been taking them," doubted Tony. "Shouldn't he be in the hospital?"

"Do you wish to take him there?"

Tony's eyes widened. "No! I like my head where it is, thank you."

Ducky grinned. "I did not think so. To answer your question, yes, maybe he should. But we all know how Gibbs feels about hospitals. So if I can manage to keep this infection from spreading, I think it is safe to honor his wishes," Ducky raised a finger to gain attention, "he does have to listen to me this time and rest, however, and the IV-pole is going home with him, whether he likes it or not."

"Only you, Ducky...only you," Tony smiled, then glanced in the general direction of O'Neill. "How's the colonel doing?"

"Fine," a gruff voice responded before Ducky could answer.

"Colonel O'Neill, you're awake," the senior field agent said in surprise.

Tilting his head, Jack peered at the younger man through half-open, annoyed eyes. "You've been spending time with Daniel for stating the obvious like that?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "How's the hand?"

"Fine," Jack replied without elaborating.

"I have taken some X-rays, reduced the unstable fractures and immobilized the hand. It will all heal in time," Ducky explained. "Now please, be so kind and go inform our director that I will send Jethro home for at least a week. Then," he glanced over his shoulder, "when that first bag is empty and Jethro is awake, you can drive him home. It would also be advisable if somebody stays with him..."

Tony was quick to respond, "Not me, Ducky, please, not me! He'll get all cranky and snappy..."

"Hmm, yes, I see your point. Maybe we can ask Caitlin," Ducky replied with a frown.

"I can do that," O'Neill joined in, this time opening up his eyes completely as he looked at the medical examiner. "It's not like I can go back to active duty at the moment, so I can stay for a few days."

"How are you going to keep him grounded?" Tony wondered. "You don't know him, Gibbs is, well, ... he's very stubborn, can be a bastard at the best of times," he unconsciously ducked, fully expecting a head-slap that didn't come, "and will go and work on that boat until he keels over."

Jack cracked a smile. "I think I can handle that. Besides... doesn't Colonel trump Gunnery Sergeant?"

"Yes, it does," Ducky answered with delight. He placed one hand on Tony's shoulder and gently turned him around until the younger man was facing the door and gave him a slight push. "Now, please go. Unless you want him to wake up with you staring at him."

-oo-oo-


	30. Another chocolate bar

_**A/N: **thanks again to Lynette!_

* * *

**AUTOPSY, NCIS HEADQUARTERS**

Dr. Donald Mallard stood, staring at the unconscious man on his autopsy table, lost in thought. After having soaked the wound on Jethro's shoulder, he'd thoroughly cleaned it, using a sterilized pair of tweezers to pry the edges of the wound open while he'd used cotton swabs and sterile gauze to wipe away and drain all the pus. He'd probed deep, making sure to drain all pockets. He'd then soaked the wound in a fresh batch of disinfectant solution for almost half an hour before drying it carefully with sterile gauze. Having drenched another piece of sterile gauze with an antibiotic ointment, he'd then placed that inside the wound to let it drain and had finished his work with another dressing on top, which he'd taped into place with four strips at the edges.

Luckily, the exit wound on Jethro's back was healing properly, so he'd only had to change the dressings.

Having thought over all the steps he'd undertaken to treat Jethro's wound, Ducky was certain he'd done all that could be done. Although he'd told Tony that all would be all right, he knew however that he had to be careful. If the infection spread any further there was the risk it would enter the bloodstream and then Jethro would have to go to Bethesda for more aggressive treatment. He was glad the colonel had offered to stay with his friend. For some reason, Ducky fully trusted the man. Plus, O'Neill had much more experience with treating wounds than Tony or Kate. The man would know what to do if Jethro's condition deteriorated. Of course, Ducky would go by the house himself several times in the next couple of days as he needed to keep soaking and draining the wound. Then why was he still doubting?

He moved his head, glancing at O'Neill. The colonel was awake and watching him. Mallard started, "Are you sure..."

"It'll be all right, Ducky," O'Neill interrupted him shortly. "I'll take real good care of him. Redressing and draining that will be no problem. Done it before."

Ducky stared into the intent dark brown eyes, then nodded in relief. "Very well. Thank you."

"You're welcome," O'Neill replied.

Turning around, Ducky moved over to the autopsy table and waited for the last drops in the IV-bag to disappear. Next, he disconnected the tubing from Gibbs' hand, leaving the entry port intact. He removed the empty bag, then rolled the pole over in the direction of where O'Neill was seated. He started taking it apart there, explaining a few things to the colonel, so that O'Neill could make sure it was put back together at Jethro's house. Packing it in a bag, he also packed new, full IV-bags with it along with some extra oral medication and plenty of gauze and dressings.

"He's coming around," O'Neill alerted him, nodding briefly into Gibbs' direction.

Ducky turned to take a look and found Jethro still lying absolutely still on the table. Glancing in surprise at O'Neill, the ME moved over and studied Jethro's face. It was distorted, the pain from the previously performed procedure having reached him even in his unconscious state. The special agent's complexion was pale, despite the red patches from fever that were covering the cheekbones.

Mallard was about to return to the bag he was packing when his attention fell onto Gibbs' left hand. It twisted, only slightly. Glancing back at Gibbs' face, Ducky now noted a slight trembling of the eyelids as well. He tilted his head to give a brief nod of acknowledgment to O'Neill.

He then waited patiently. Jethro's eyelids trembled some more, then the special agent shifted his head a little. The eyes fluttered open, and bright eyes stared at the ceiling in confusion.

"Welcome back, Jethro," Ducky spoke softly and encouragingly. "You have been unconscious for a while, but you're still in autopsy. Remember?"

Jethro's gaze found Ducky's face and he blinked a few times. He slowly lifted his left hand, moving his arm, ready to prod the right shoulder.

Ducky grabbed Gibbs' wrist. "No, don't touch it, Jethro. I've cleaned out the infection and wrapped the wound so it can drain. How's the pain?"

Gibbs stared at his left hand as Ducky held it above his chest and noted the IV-port. He frowned in surprise. "Not too bad," he croaked.

"Good," Ducky replied as he placed Jethro's hand back on the table, then moved his fingers to take his patient's pulse. Next, he took the digital thermometer and took Gibbs' temperature. "Still a little over a 103," he muttered, "Are you cold?"

The special agent shivered, but answered, "No."

"All right, let's get you sitting up," Ducky said, taking the blanket that was still covering the special agent from the waist down, away. He then placed his right hand under Jethro's left armpit and slid his left hand supportingly under Jethro's back. "Easy now, you might get a little dizzy. But I've got you."

Gently, he pulled and assisted Jethro in sitting up, holding him steady. The injured man swayed a little as he slid his legs over the edge of the table. Ducky held onto him, waiting patiently. "Slow breaths, Jethro. That's it."

Keeping one hand on Gibbs' shoulder for support, Ducky grabbed a cloth and wiped the perspiration from Jethro's face, then grabbed the blanket and spread it around the shivering man's shoulders. "How are you feeling?"

"Hot and cold," Gibbs mumbled. He concentrated on his breathing as the spell of dizziness slowly faded. His shoulder throbbed from the movement so he made sure to keep his right arm absolutely still. As if suddenly remembering, he tilted his head and searched the lab, his eyes finally settling on Colonel O'Neill. He took in Jack's wrapped and immobilized left hand, and the butterfly strips on his face. "You okay?"

Jack grinned. "Better than you, I think."

"The hand?" Gibbs pressed on, needing to know.

"No permanent damage, according to the doc over here," O'Neill replied with a nod of appreciation in Ducky's general direction.

"I've reduced the unstable fractures," Ducky explained to his friend, "and splinted them. The breaks were not too bad, so I'm confident they will heal well, Jethro. There's no need for worry."

Gibbs' gaze shifted from O'Neill to Ducky before switching to the photos of O'Neill's hand on the light board at the wall. He sighed, took in the bag Ducky was packing on another table then dropped his gaze and stared at the IV-port at the back of his left hand. "How long have I been out?"

Realizing his friend didn't recall waking up before, Ducky looked at the clock, "A little over three hours. You're still running a fever from the infection. You are in need of fluids and antibiotics, and that's why you see the IV-port there," he motioned at Jethro's hand. "In a moment, the kids will drive you home, where the next bag will be attached."

"Duck," Gibbs started to protest.

"No, Jethro, no objections. It is either that, or the hospital. This infection has grown too much already and to fight it you need antibiotics, lots of fluids and of course, lots of rest. Now, how am I going to apply the immobilizer?" The last question was mostly directed at himself as he realized it would put pressure on the thick layer of dressings and he didn't want to risk them becoming loose.

"Just wrap something around his torso to immobilize the arm," Colonel O'Neill advised, signaling in circles with his right hand, "It works just as well."

"Hmm, that's an idea," Ducky agreed, and, lifting the blanket, he started to tie Gibbs' arm to his torso to keep it from moving. Finishing it with a solid knot, he looked in satisfaction at his work, then searched Jethro's gaze. "Colonel O'Neill has offered to stay with you, an offer which I have gladly accepted. Need I remind you of the fact that he is special ops trained and can restrain you with one hand if necessary?" Ducky batted an eye in O'Neill's direction, who grinned in return.

Gibbs looked at his old friend and found the underlying concern there in Ducky's eyes. That, plus the way he was feeling -exhausted, weak, in pain and trembling from the fever-, made him relent. "Home it is, then."

-oo-oo-

**IN THE CAR, SOMEWHERE DOWN THE ROADS IN WASHINGTON**

Colonel Jack O'Neill was leaning back on the rear seat of the car. Special agent Tony DiWhatever was driving and special agent Kate Todd was sitting next to him. The two of them were bantering with each other like a married couple.

Jack had listened to it for a while and thrown a surprised glance in the direction of Gibbs, who was sitting next to him. Jethro had only made a slight movement with his head, a hint of a grin emerging on his face, before shifting to get more comfortable and closing his eyes.

Tony was driving them home. Home, being Special Agent Gibbs' home.

Deciding he could use the rest, Jack also closed his eyes. His left arm was resting in the sling and wasn't hurting much at the moment. As long as he didn't suddenly jar it he was okay.

He thought back to the final goodbyes between Gibbs' team and his. Carter and Daniel were on their way back to Colorado now, with Special Agent McGee driving them back to Langley AFB.

He knew Gibbs' team had shot loads of questions at his team about their job. It must have been hard on Carter and Daniel to keep sticking to their cover-story. He was glad he hadn't been the subject of that line of questioning. He just wasn't a very patient kind of guy.

He had to smile at the memory of the look that appeared on Carter's face when she'd been on the receiving end of a very long, very tight hug from NCIS's forensic specialist, Abby. Daniel was less shocked, but then again, he might have been prepared, seeing how Abby had hugged Sam first. Abby certainly was something special. He wouldn't forget her lightly, he knew. She also had her own special place in Gibbs' team, he could tell. Where as Jethro easily barked at the rest, making them crawl back into their corners, he couldn't achieve that with this lady. His grunt that he was fine and could walk by himself had been enough for the Goth to shake her head, rush forward and simply drag his arm around her shoulder as she supported him all the way down to the garage and helped him get into the car as if he was made out of glass.

Then, she'd turned to him, a deadly serious look on her face, and she'd raised a warning finger. "I'm not saying goodbye to you yet. You better take good care of Gibbs, you hear? You may be special forces and all, but I know forensics, mister. I can kill you without leaving a trace and you won't see it coming!" He'd looked at her in surprise, but then she'd started to laugh before stepping closer to hug him once more, promising that she would stop by later to check on the both of them.

That was something to look forward to, Jack thought, still smiling.

He was rudely interrupted from his musings as the car suddenly came to a halt. The abrupt motion jarred his injured hand, sending a bout of pain through his arm and he gritted his teeth as he tried to see why Tony had slammed the brakes.

Gibbs had been unpleasantly surprised by the sudden stop as well and barked through clenched teeth, "DiNozzo!"

"Sorry, boss," the younger agent apologized. He threw his door open and got out of the car.

"Oh, please," Kate muttered as she realized where Tony was heading.

O'Neill looked and saw an old woman behind a four wheel-walker standing at the beginning of the crossing. She was trying to get her walker moving, but it looked stuck to the pavement somehow.

He watched as DiNozzo ran to her aid, dropping to his knees beside the walking aid cart and started fidgeting with the wheels, occasinally throwing a wide smile up to the old lady.

The walker now on the road, O'Neill saw Tony get up, holding out his hand in an inviting manner as he motioned for the woman to continue crossing the road.

Her walker rocked again. "Oh, for crying out loud," Jack muttered as he reached for the door.

The other door was already opened and Gibbs got out of the car before Jack could call for him to remain seated. With a sigh he watched as Jethro walked over. Reaching the old woman and his field agent, Gibbs seemed to be greeting the lady as she gave him a wide smile. Gibbs slowly crouched down, ran one hand along the stuck wheel and tugged it a little, then fidgeted a bit more.

The old lady now tried her cart again. The wheel held this time and she was able to continue. She reached into her handbag and handed something to Gibbs. With another smile and an apparent thank you, the woman continued her walk to the other side of the street and O'Neill watched as the two agents returned to the car.

"So that's who you got the chocolate bars from," Kate sneered at Tony while he was getting back in the vehicle.

It took Gibbs a little longer to get in, then he also closed his door. O'Neill looked in surprise at the chocolate bar in his hand.

"That was good, boss. What did you do to that wheel?" Tony said, looking over his shoulder. He held up his hand, his eyes locked on the chocolate.

"Next time you repair something, make sure it is actually repaired, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied and tossed the bar to the front of the car.

Tony lifted his hand to grab it, but Gibbs hadn't thrown it to him, but over Kate's shoulder and it ended up in her lap.

Tony's eyes widened and it was obvious he wanted to grab it but she was quicker, snatching it away, holding it up in front of his face. Waving it teasingly, she called out in triumph, "Yes! Thank you, Gibbs!"

O'Neill glanced sideways, saw the faint smile on the ex-marine's face, then watched him lean back into his seat with a grunt as he closed his eyes. Looking to the front, O'Neill caught DiNozzo's disappointed reflection in the mirror, shook his head and smirked.

-oo-oo-


	31. Can you make it fly?

_**Author's notes: **__Well. Here's the final part. I'm both glad and sad this is over. It has been a great experience for me to write NCIS and combine it with SG-1. It was quite a challenge to keep everything within character and divide my attention between the characters, although I gladly admit that Gibbs and Jack got more than a fair part of it, they are, after all, my favorites._

_Now I know it might be hard to except a case without it being completely solved, but you know, that's just the way it is with conspiracies. Some pawns in the game get caught, but the ones pulling the strings stay out of harm's reach. It is just fuel for us writers to get some more stories out, grin. And then again, we all know that Jack will get the bad guys in the end, and we know what will eventually happen to Simmons._

_About the stargate project? Well, you know it would have to be kept secret. And Gibbs was not to find out. No matter how hard he pressed. I hadn't press him that hard, btw, 'cause I think Gibbs is smart enough to know how far he can go and when to back down._

_There's no further delaying this... on with the final chapter. Basically I wanted it to end the way it ended, the rest of the chapter is me just stretching it a bit into a full chapter. I hope the last paragraph, especially the last sentence, will leave you with a grin on your face. If so, my efforts in finishing this story will have succeeded._

**GIBBS' RESIDENCE, SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON**

The first two days at home had passed in some sort of blur for Gibbs. Coming home, he'd been exhausted from the trip and had barely made it into his living room where he'd crashed on the couch.

When he'd come around later that day, he'd found himself covered by a blanket and hooked back up to the IV-pole. He'd wondered briefly how Jack had managed to put that back together with only one functional hand, but had felt too weary to ask.

Ducky had come by to change the dressings, a painful procedure that had left him worn out. He'd slept most of the time, unable to keep up appearances and to keep a conversation going and although he knew his team had been stopping by for visits, he'd missed most of it.

The third morning he woke up feeling a lot better. His head was clearer, his shoulder still hurt, but less than before and the tremors that had wracked his body were gone.

He was just deciding whether to try and get up when O'Neill came into his bedroom. The colonel crossed the room to open the curtains before turning, staring at him intently.

"Morning. You look much better today."

Gibbs slowly sat up, throwing aside the blankets before sliding his legs off the bed. "Feel better," he commented.

"Good. Your fever broke yesterday, the rest was your body catching up with sleep. Fancy some breakfast?"

Gibbs stared at the colonel, momentarily wondering when, but more importantly how, he'd gotten from the couch to his bedroom, not to mention who had managed to get him out of his clothes and into one of his more comfy tracksuits.

Jack grinned. "Don't ask," he advised, then turned to leave the room.

Jethro frowned before deciding it was probably better if he didn't know. He sat still for a while, looking slowly around as he tried to adjust at being upright. He was neither nauseous nor dizzy, but, as Abby would call it, something was hinky. It was probably his body needing to get used to the change in position.

Once he felt more secure about the sitting up part, he slowly rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom. Rinsing his face with cold water felt incredibly refreshing and a quick brushing of his teeth got rid of the foul taste in his mouth. Almost as good as new, he thought, although he really could use a shower. He'd had to ask Ducky later.

His stomach growled, making him realize that he was hungry. Hadn't Jack said something about breakfast? He slowly walked towards the kitchen and smiled when he could smell the coffee.

Jack was behind the counter, fixing breakfast. He'd made toast, had bacon in a frying pan and, Jethro's senses hadn't betrayed him, had two large cups ready with hot steaming coffee.

"Sit down," the colonel motioned as he grabbed the frying pan to deposit the bacon on the plates.

Jethro stepped closer to help, but O'Neill threw one look at him and he sighed, stepped back and set down at the table, watching with wonder as the Air Force Colonel managed with one hand.

The cup of coffee was placed in front of him first. The plate followed suit. Then the Colonel brought his own stuff over and sat down on the other chair across the table.

"You got handy, doing all that one-handed," Gibbs commented as he tried to decide between sipping coffee or eat a slice of toast first. The coffee won, he lifted the cup, smelled the aroma and sipped.

"Got a lot of practice over the years," Jack replied. "Wished you had some oatmeal, though. Should have gone shopping, but driving is a kinda no-no."

Jethro grinned as he started spreading some butter on his toast. "So," he asked between two bites, "what did I miss?"

"Oh," O'Neill replied lightly, as he lifted his bandaged hand, "not much to do, except watching reruns of The Simpsons on television, entertain your team when they stopped by... Same old, same old."

"The Simpsons?" Gibbs asked, wondering.

Jack shrugged. "Can't get enough of it! Your agent, McGee, was kind enough to bring me a bunch of tapes."

Having no idea what kind of show The Simpsons was, Jethro decided not to ask. He finished his toast, took a few bites from the bacon but didn't like the way his stomach responded to that, so he pushed the plate aside and downed his coffee.

When O'Neill was also finished, Jethro got up and wanted to help getting the plates back on the counter, but Jack wouldn't let him. "Ack!" With his pointing finger of his good hand raised, the Colonel looked at the barely recovered agent. "You get comfortable on the couch. I'll clean up here."

"Least I can do is help," Gibbs objected.

"Nope," O'Neill responded resolutely. "Your forensic tornado is coming to see you any minute now. Do you have any idea what she'll do to me if she finds you up, doing the dishes?"

Gibbs had to smile at that description. "Abby's coming?"

"Oh, yeah. She's been over a few times... been worried 'bout you... The first night? Wild horses couldn't drag her away."

Jethro frowned. He didn't know what disturbed him more, the fact that Abby had been taking care of him all night or the fact that he didn't remember it at all.

"Ducky is coming over as well," Jack continued. "Said he'd probably be able to stitch your wound today. Now go and get your butt on that couch, Jethro. You're doing better but you still gotta take it easy and rest. You lost a lot of strength the last couple of days."

Giving in, Gibbs left the kitchen and entered the living room. He was barely settled when he heard his front door opening, followed by quick, short clicking of shoes in the hallway. Next he knew, Abby came rushing in, rambling non-stop. "Gibbs! Gibbs! You're up! You're looking much better, Gibbs, you got some color back on your cheeks. How do you feel? Did you have breakfast yet? And coffee? I was so worried about you! But you're better now, right?"

She hurried forward, bent over and gently wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're up, Gibbs. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine, Abs, I'm fine," he replied, patiently waiting for her to let go.

"Are you sure?" the lab-girl pulled her arms back then placed one hand on his forehead, the other grabbing his wrist. "Shh," she instructed as she counted inwardly. Nodding, she then smiled, "feels better. But we'll let Ducky be the judge of that."

She wanted to let go, but this time, Jethro grabbed her by the arm, pulling her a little closer. Looking intently into her eyes first, he made an effort to reach her and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. He wasn't a man of many words, but she understood and whispered, "You're welcome."

Getting up, she ran a hand over her short red-white gingham skirt as if to straighten it, then looked into the direction of the kitchen. "I'm going to help with the dishes. You," she pointed, her face indicating she wasn't one to mess with, "stay put."

He grinned and watched her disappear, then leant back and closed his eyes.

The next time he opened his eyes, Jethro glanced in surprise at Ducky, who was seated in the living-room telling one of his famous stories to Colonel O'Neill.

Stopping in mid-sentence, Ducky looked at him with a huge grin on his face. "There you are, Jethro. Slept well, I presume?"

Staring from Ducky to O'Neill then to the plates with sandwiches on the table he asked while getting into a sitting position, "What time is it?"

"It is lunch time, Jethro," Ducky answered, "you slept through the morning."

O'Neill gave him one of those I-told-you-so looks before picking up a plate and starting to eat a sandwich.

"Are you hungry, Jethro?" Ducky asked, getting up to hand Gibbs a plate as well.

Gibbs nodded and took a bite as well, still amazed at the time passing without him noticing.

Ducky ate, but continued his story in between bites. When they were all finished, Ducky went to grab his medical bag from the hallway then sat down on the coffee table close to Gibbs, motioning for the special agent to lie down. "I'll take a look at your shoulder now, Jethro."

Once Gibbs' sweatshirt was out of the way and the bandages removed, Ducky inspected the wound with great care. He nodded to himself, "Yes, the infection is gone. I think it is safe to close it now." He'd brought the necessary equipment with him, so he took it from his bag and gently injected a local anesthetic on both sides of the wound before deftly setting to work.

Thirty minutes later, the wound was closed and freshly bandaged, and Jethro was sound asleep again.

Gibbs woke up a couple of hours later to find the living room silent and empty. Frowning, he lifted his left hand to tentatively feel at his shoulder. Ducky had apparently managed to put his shirt back down, and his right arm was nicely resting in a sling. He sat up in confusion, wondering where everybody was and how long he'd slept this time.

After checking his kitchen, Jethro went down the stairs to his basement and found Colonel O'Neill one-handedly sanding the ribs of his boat. "Hey," Jack greeted him as he looked up from his work. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Gibbs replied, a little confused. "For a guy who keeps falling asleep..."

"Don't worry," Jack grinned, "sleep is the best medicine."

"You?"

"Me?" Jack asked in surprise. "What about me?"

"How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Jack replied. "Took the liberty of working on your boat. The Simpsons are nice but even I get bored of them after hours of reruns. Hope you don't mind."

Jethro shook his head as he inspected the sanded ribs by running his good hand over them. Sadly enough it would take a bit longer before he could start working on it himself. Heading over to his workbench he hopped up onto it as he had no chairs in the basement. With a grimace, he asked, "so what happens now?"

Jack looked up. "I'll head back to Colorado tomorrow."

That was the bare minimum of information, but then again, Jethro realized he hadn't exactly been specific with his questioning either. "The guy, who got away?"

"Oh, don't worry," Jack waved him off. "We'll get him, eventually."

"The package?"

"Won't do them any good with that lock, will it?"

"No, guess not. What happens to Colonel Makepeace?" Jethro wanted to know.

"He stays in prison," Jack shrugged. "I'll have a word with him, about the stuff he had collected. Having no evidence sucks, but knowing what was in it at least is something. Hopefully I know a little of what to expect."

"What do they want?"

"To shut us down."

"Why?" Gibbs wondered, without knowing what it was they wanted to shut down to begin with.

"So they can control it. Do things their way. Which isn't our way."

Well, that was helpful information, Gibbs thought. Then again, he should know better than ask questions about things Jack wasn't supposed to be discussing.

"They go far, to get what they want," he remarked, thinking about the torture and murder of Lieutenant Makepeace, the kidnapping of O'Neill, the threats that had been made involving General Hammond's grandchildren.

"Let them come," O'Neill muttered. "I'm ready. Won't go down without a fight."

"To what end?"

Jack stared at him.

"What if they win?" Gibbs pressed on.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Jethro."

"Wish I could do more to help," Jethro answered sincerely. Despite having no clue about what the people of the so-called SGC were doing and why, his gut told him it was something important, something dangerous and something the Air Force colonel played a huge role in. He'd come to like and respect the man a lot during the time they'd spent together and he got the impression that feeling was mutual. "Watch your back, Jack."

"Always, Jethro," Jack responded. "Always. As Daniel would like to say, I've got eyes and ears in the back of my head and more lives than a cat. Thanks for going though all that effort to find me. Appreciate it."

Gibbs nodded in acceptance. He'd done it gladly and would do it again, if needed.

"You've got a good team, too," Jack continued. "They're good at what they do and I've seen they care a lot about you. It's important, to have a team like that."

"I know. Just don't tell DiNozzo," Jethro agreed. "Yours isn't bad either... Although I still haven't figured out what you need a linguist and archaeologist for."

O'Neill smirked. "And you haven't met Murray yet..."

They fell silent, both musing over their lives, their team, the past case. O'Neill was sanding again, slowly and precisely, seeming to enjoy it and Gibbs just peacefully watched. He would love to join in but for now he was just glad he could stay awake.

After an hour of silence between the two men, O'Neill put the sandpaper down, brushed a hand over his face and through his hair and then dug up his cell from the pocket of his pants.

Comfortably leaning back against the wall, Jethro wondered who he was calling and watched in silence as O'Neill flipped it open, hitting one of the speed-dials. A wide smile appeared on his face as he heard who Jack was calling and what he was asking.

"Yo, Carter... if I start building an airplane out of wood... Can you make it fly?"

** THE END**

_**A/N:** It is truly amazing how many hits this story is still getting. Thank you all for reading, for putting it on your fav-lists. I am so glad you like it. I have finally made the last chances based on the suggestions made by Lynette so I hope it is better English now. Special thanks, to her and kate, for beta-ing this for me. And, as always: I still love to hear what you think..._


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